Pandemonium
by DefyGravity18
Summary: Darcy's life is forever changed when she gets a call from an old friend and accepts a position with S.H.I.E.L.D. and gets more than she bargained for. This is obviously Tasertricks. Takes place post Avengers, pre-Iron Man 3. Most likely disregards Thor 2. Rated T...for now.
1. Rubber Bands and Easy Mac

**Okay, so here's the thing. I don't read the comic books. This is strictly based on movie canon. So, obviously there will be inaccuracies. Take it for what it is. It's JUST fanfic. And I figure, Darcy doesn't technically exist in the comic books, so this is totally my own thing.  
**

**Obviously will probably disregard Thor 2. Set post-Avengers, pre-Iron Man 3.  
**

* * *

Do you know what I was doing at this time two years ago? Well, I don't remember _exactly,_ but I'm pretty sure it involved a Cup-A-Ramen and bad T.V. while studying for finals. I was a normal girl. I mean, as normal as you can be growing up with a mother who thinks it's okay to borrow clothes from her ten year old daughter and have a naval piercing. Dad's been out of the picture pretty much since I could walk, leaving me with Jodie (My mother insisted I call her by her first name so that people would think we were sisters). We got along okay, I guess. I mean, she didn't hit me or anything. She didn't really do much of anything with me.

Truth be told, I haven't seen her in about eight years. I don't miss her. I'm sure she doesn't miss me. I ended up living with my Aunt Kate when I was eleven. We hadn't really ever been close before, but I was shocked when she and Uncle Dan took me in like I was their own. It was weird coming home every night to a table with actual food on it. The most grocery shopping Jodie had done was to run up to the 7-11 for cigarettes and Slim Fast.

Okay, so fast forward to a little over one year ago. I was right on the brink of getting my B.A. in Cultural Anthropology. I was _this_ effing close. But a glitch in the registration system screwed me out of my elective Philosophy class, leaving me six credits short. Six. Effing. Credits. So, I was obviously pissed. I'm not down with wasting my summers on school. Especially when I was literally one class away. But, luck or fate (or the fact that Physics is a bullshit field of science and nobody applied for the position) made my student advisor suggest an internship with some doctor who was doing research on…something…and I applied.

"What do I have to do?" I'd asked, to which the advisor had waved her perfectly manicured hand casually.

"Oh, you know…you would basically be an assistant. Take dictation. Get coffee. That sort of thing…"

Yeah, that bitch didn't know what it was either, because let me tell you, it was _not_ like that. First of all, Jane Foster is kind of an uptight nut. She's this frantic, compulsive genius woman, and everything is pretty much life or death with her. Erik Selvig, I liked. He's a good guy. Serious and kind of quiet, but nice. Obviously, I was not what they were expecting. You know, someone who took and well, _understood_ physics. But I was all they had, so it was that or nothing.

Which leads us to what I will refer to as _The Incident. _(Like on LOST, except weirder.) But, we'd been staking out in the middle of the desert in New Mexico every night tracking electromagnetic activity (I think), and out of nowhere, comes this freaky flashing lights tornado thing out of the sky, which the brilliant Dr. Foster sends me hurtling toward in a tin can of a trailer and this big, blond doofus falls out of the sky and we hit him.

That was Thor.

I'm not going to rattle on about Thor. We all know who he is. Big guy, muscly, brawny. Wields a hammer. Has a sociopath brother who tried to take over the world…twice.

Well, he and Jane kind of fell in love and he had to leave when said sociopath was on the rampage so he could save his Dad. I know, I know…it's more complicated than the Kardashian family tree. Bear with me here.

Well, long story short, I graduated. I got my degree, and let me tell you, I earned that bad boy after what we went through with Brother-Thor's little Destroyer toy. My internship with Jane ended, and I came home to California. I know this may be surprising, but jobs in the field of Anthropology weren't just flying at me.

One year after graduation, I was working for a company that sells rubber bands. Seriously, that's what I was doing with my degree. I sold rubber _bands_ to people. Live the dream, kids. Live it. After an _extremely_ taxing day of sitting at a desk and trying to convince people why they need a bulk supply of rubber bands, I returned to the crappy little apartment I was renting outside L.A. and decided to heat up a delicious Easy Mac before curling up in front of my old (non-flat screen) T.V.

That's when I saw Breaking News on every station.

The first person I recognized was Erik Selvig. He was standing on top of a building in front of some freaky glowing thing. I set my Easy Mac aside and grabbed my cell, praying the number I was about to call hadn't changed.

"Hello?" She answered on the first ring.

Whatcha doin'…?" I drawled into the phone, making Jane gasp.

"Darcy?"

"Yeah, it's me," I turned my eyes back to the grim picture on my T.V. "Are you seeing this?"

"Seeing what?" Jane sighed, "I'm in knots. Darcy, Thor's back."

"Where are you?"

"I'm on my way to New York. I have to talk to him." I could tell by desperation in her voice that she was driving. Glancing at the news, I shook my head skeptically.

"Jane, that's not a good idea. It looks like Transformers three out there!" I told her, before pausing, "Oh my God, do you think Optimus Prime could like, really exist?"

"Darcy!" Jane moaned . "Not now."

"Jane, this is a bad idea." That's when I saw the live broadcast of Thor and his baby bro beating the piss out of each other on the roof of the Stark building. "Senor Loco has a magic wand—ah crap! There goes the K on Stark!"

"His name is Loki," Jane said, sounding like she was gritting her teeth.

"I don't care if the guy's name is Sparkles, the point is he's whacked!" I cried, wincing as he shot a helicopter. "Anyway, please just be careful…if you're going to do this…and I know you will, can you call me and let me know if you're okay?"

"Of course I will."

"Tell Thor I said hey," I added, before hanging up. I stayed glued to the screen for the better part of two hours, watching in horror with the world as Iron Man flew a nuclear missile up into space and the world hushed as we waited for him to fall back down. I have to be honest. Tony Stark is one of the coolest damn people on the planet, so I was legitimately scared for him. But somehow, he made it and we all lived to see another day.

Which brings us to the beginning of this story. Mine. Darcy Madonna Lewis (Yes that is my real middle name. You can check my birth certificate).

It starts with a phone call.

True to her word, Jane calls me the next day. She couldn't get into the city, and when she finally did, Thor was already gone again. Phil Coulson is dead. Obviously, I didn't know him very well, other than the fact that he took Jane's stuff without an explanation. There's going to be a funeral the following day in New York.

"I think you should come," Jane tells me, to which I laugh.

"Oh, yeah! I'll just take a good four hundred out of my non-existent savings and shoot right over!" I tell her. "Some of us work for a living, Jane! I barely even knew him."

"That's not the point," Jane replies in a low voice, "I think there may be a job opportunity here for you. S.H.I.E.L.D. is rebuilding their staff, and they're going to need people to collect information on the other realms. Since you have a degree in Anthropology, Erik suggested you to Fury for a position. Outside Communications Analyst."

"Don't they want someone with a little more experience?" I ask skeptically.

"I don't think so," She answers, "This position isn't like any other government job. And you've already had some experience with an extraterrestrial attack, so they can trust you. You signed that confidentiality waiver that Coulson drew up." She hesitates, "Unless you had something better out there…"

Oh yeah. Those rubber bands won't sell themselves.

"What do I do?" I sigh, defeated and far too hopeful for my own good. I can almost hear her smile.

"Just come tomorrow. Bring a résumé. Dress nice," She laughs.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I tease, already on my way into the bedroom to pack.

"No sneakers, Darce."

"_Fine.._. What about the flight? I'm still broke," I remind her. "I'm pretty sure Aunt Kate and Uncle Dan are at their limit what with Jack graduating this year and Claire on cheerleading."

"S.H.I.E.L.D. is paying for your flight. All you need to do is check in at the counter with your I.D. and they'll print your ticket for you," She explains. "Listen, I have to go. I'll see you in the morning."

"What time is the flight?" I sigh, opening my closet.

"Five A.M. Your time."

"Ugh! Seriously, Jane?" I groan, "You know I'm not a morning person!"

"You can sleep on the plane. The funeral is at ten. They'll tell you the rest when you're here," She informs me. "I'm glad you're coming."

"Me too," I grin, gleefully realizing that I'll never have to see a five pound bag of rubber bands again. The second phone call is harder.

"Yo!"

I roll my eyes at my uncle trying to be the cool dad. "Uncle Dan, I'm pretty sure that was never cool. Nice try though," I laugh.

"What's up, Kiddo?" He asks.

"I uh…I wanted to let you know I got a job offer in New York City. I'm leaving in the morning." I fidget with my bedspread.

"What? Seriously, Darce?" Dan's voice drops his normal joking tone and adopts his concerned father voice. "That's a big decision, hon."

"Yeah, but it's a huge pay raise and I'll actually be using my degree, which is nice—"

"But it's all the way across the country," He reminds me, "We'll never see you!"

"Well, I'll be back for like, holidays and vacations and stuff…" I point out lamely, feeling a twinge of guilt. He sighs.

"Here, Aunt Kate wants to talk to you," He tells me, making my gut fill with dread.

"You're moving to New York?" She says without so much as a hello. "Shouldn't we talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" I ask, confused. "I mean, I'm twenty-four years old, Aunt Kate. It's time I started making my own way. I can't count on you forever…that's not your responsibility. You're not my parents." I can tell by the silence on the phone that I've unintentionally hurt her. This is something we've never talked about. "Aunt Kate, I'm s—"

"You listen to me, Darcy," She says quietly, "I may not have given birth to you, but you mean just as much to me as Jack and Claire. I don't care what your birth certificate says, you are _our_ kid. Okay?" I'm a little shocked when my eyes fill with tears as I'm not really a crier. I don't cry at those sappy Lifetime movies or the evil commercials where Sarah MacLachlan pleads with you to donate to the A.S.P.C.A. But, all of a sudden, my eyes burn and my throat closes and I wish I knew what to say, but I don't so I just stay on the line silent. "Darce?"

"Yeah," I choke, sniffing as quietly as I can. "Okay."

"Now, let's talk about this," Kate tells me gently, "What's this job offer?" I blink, quickly composing myself.

"It's as an…analyst…for, um…an agency." I throw my arms up helplessly, knowing I can't tell her what I'm doing, so I opt for, "Basically, it's a social worker." I pray she can't detect my lie through the phone as I unceremoniously fling clothes into a suitcase.

"And, do you think it's worth moving across the country?" Kate inquires, making me swallow, trying to think of more cover lies. "What with the big attacks there yesterday? The place is in ruins!"

"Yeah," I tell her, "I have some friends out there and the city is making all kinds of jobs to…um…help with the rebuilding and all that. Kids who've lost homes and parents and stuff."

"Well, I think that's honorable," Dan's voice comes in, and it's only then that I realize we're on speaker.

"Yes, but it's so far…"

"She's twenty-four, Katie."

"She's just a kid."

"Guys?" I interrupt, "I love you both like crazy, but I really do have to pack. I have to come home and pack the rest of my place anyway. So, I'll come then. 'Kay?"

"So, you're really going?" Kate asks, sounding close to tears. Okay, I'm not sure when this happens, but it seems like all moms develop this innate ability to guilt trip their spawn. Aunts too, apparently.

"Yeah," I exhale, "I'm really going. It's a once in a lifetime opportunity."

"Really? A social worker?" Dan's says doubtfully. I cringe.

"Big raise…" I reiterate. "_Big_ raise."

"Call us as soon as you're in," Kate insists, making me smile despite rolling my eyes.

"I will."

"Do you have your Taser?" Dan asks, making me laugh. It was my birthday gift from him on my twenty-first after all.

"Yep."

"Good girl." We say our goodbyes, and I return to my messy packing, stuffing everything I can think of into my suitcase. Tampons. Makeup. Q-Tips. The only thing I don't pack is my razor, mainly because I'm not really sure what is considered a weapon these days.

The next morning when I get to the airport and I give my I.D., the woman running the desk gives me a skeptical look. She clearly thinks it's a fake, considering my name is Darcy Madonna Lewis.

"Alright," I sigh, seeing her eyebrows rise. "Yes, that is really my middle name. Yes, I was named after the singer with the cone boobs. Yes, my mother was a nut. No, I am not crazy." She pauses for a moment, before handing back the I.D. and picking up the phone as my pulse races. I'm going to be arrested because my kook bag of a mother named me after an eighties popstar.

"Mr. Stark," She says calmly, "Ms. Lewis has arrived. Yes, I'll send her right over. Thank you." She smiles at me and gestures to a very serious looking dude in a suit with an earpiece. I give the woman a hesitant smile and head over to James Bond.

"Darcy Lewis?"

I nod. "'Sup?"

"The sky," He replies dryly. I like him already. "I'm Happy Hogan, Mr. Stark's head of security. He's waiting in the jet for you."

"Wait," I stop him, holding my hand up. "Mr. Stark…as in _Tony_ Stark?"

"He's kind of a big deal," Happy nods, smirking. I notice two other guys grab my bags as we start to walk toward the terminal.

"So, I'm getting picked up in a private jet?" I grin, ready to squeal. Yesterday I was selling rubber bands and eating Easy Mac. Today I'm about to board Tony Stark's private freaking jet and become an Outside Communications Analyst for S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Pretty cool, huh?" He grins as we approach a door where two men stand guard. People probably think I'm like, the President's daughter or something. I follow the guys outside and up the stairs into the plane. Now, I've been on planes in my life. We went to Disney World once when I was in high school. I remember being crammed in the seats and a Claire barfing all over herself. I remember babies crying and weird little dinging noises.

This plane is not that. This plane has got swag. There are like three giant flat screen T.V.'s and a table with food on it and a bar. Okay, so it's like six in the morning, but who can say they partied it up in the air? Maybe me! Oh yeah, and then there's the fact that Tony Stark is chillin' on one of the seats, casually talking up one of his security guys, while a pretty redheaded woman makes sure everything is set and approaches me.

"Darcy?" I nod. "I'm Pepper Potts. Mr. Stark's secretary—"

"Girlfriend!" Stark corrects good naturedly, giving her a wicked grin. She rolls her eyes, but she smiles anyway.

"Make yourself comfortable," She tells me, patting my arm. "Can we get you something to drink?"

"Bloody Mary?" I joke, noticing her eyes widen.

"I like her," Stark laughs, standing and walking toward me, reaching for my hand. "Tony Stark."

"Oh, right, because I had no idea," I quip, grinning at him. "Darcy Lewis. Champion seller of rubber bands and pretty good with a Taser."

"Really?" He gives me an assessing look. "I'd peg you more as a toothpick gal. Tasers, huh?"

"Yeah," I shrug, "I tased Thor."

"Now _that_ I'd pay to see," He agrees. "Welcome aboard, Lewis."

I'm still kind of in disbelief as we land in what's left of New York. I have to admit, it looked bad on T.V., but this is so much worse. Buildings are in shambles. Rescue workers are still trying to dig for missing people. A cloud of dust still looms over parts of the city. We're immediately whisked into a car that takes us to the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. The funeral has just ended and people are returning to their jobs. I try not to stare as I recognize Captain America and Dr. Banner standing off to the side, talking intently. That's when I see Jane and Erik. I hadn't realized how much I've missed them until I realize I'm bounding toward them with the energy of a hyperactive puppy. We all end up in a (most likely disturbing) triple hug.

"It's been forever!" Jane cries, pulling away, glancing down at my outfit approvingly. "Heels. Nice."

"Good to have you here," Erik adds fondly, patting my shoulder.

"So, what's the deal with Thor? He's just…gone?" I ask, linking arms with Jane. Her eyes darken slightly, but she keeps the smile on her face.

"Now, we wait. He's going to come back," She murmurs. I wonder if she's trying to convince herself or us.

"Well, he can leave the baggage at home when he does," I say, glancing out the window at the destruction again.

"Loki isn't a threat anymore," Erik assures me. "Thor assured us that he's been cuffed and muzzled."

"Muzzled?" I laugh.

"One of Loki's weapons is his silver tongue," Erik explains, making me waggle my eyebrows suggestively at Jane, who shakes her head at me.

"Look, I'm sorry, you asked for that. Talking about silver tongues. That's filthy, Selvig," I chuckle.

"You haven't changed at all," Erik smiles, "We've missed you."

"So what do you mean cuffed?" I ask, pressing again for details on the psycho. "Isn't he like magic and junk?" Jane jumps in before Erik can answer.

"The cuff basically renders him unable to perform any magic." She shares a look with Erik uneasily. "They're preparing a new cell for him here. He's likely going to be sent back to Earth as punishment. Like Thor was."

"Sounds like _our_ punishment," I mutter.

"Which is why we need you," Erik adds, making my eyes narrow on him.

"Ex_squeeze_ me?"

"With your research in sociology and culture, we need someone to, well, be a buffer. To befriend him, if you will. Convince him to cooperate with S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Wait a sec," I stop him, "I'm going to be The God of Mental Instability's babysitter?"

"He's Outside Communications," Erik explains, "You're the new Outside Communications Analyst. Which means that you're in charge of getting through to Loki."

"By doing _what?"_ I exclaim, "Letting him throw fireballs at me and hoping for the best?"

"He won't have magic." Jane reminds me.

"Oh, good." I snap, wondering what I've just gotten into. "So, I'm like his shrink."

"More or less," Erik shrugs, looking a little sheepish…bastard.

"What do they need his cooperation with?" I ask cautiously, looking between the two of them, starting as someone walks up behind me. I whirl around to see Nick Fury standing before me.

"We have reason to believe his people – the Jotuns – are planning some sort of attack once the Bifrost regenerates. Apparently, they want revenge on Loki and Asgard for murdering their king Laufey, Loki's biological father. "

"Oh," I reply, making a face. "Well, _goody._ I can't wait to shoot the shit with Prince Frosty. I'm sure we'll get along great." I feel infinitely less confident about this job, my only consolation being the pretty paycheck and the rent free apartment I get in Stark Tower.

"Nick, what about Thor?" Jane asks worriedly, "Is he going to come back too?" I feel for her. I really do. I mean, the girl can't catch a break. She finally finds a guy who isn't put off by her going on about wormholes and electromagnetic energy and dark matter and he lives across the damn universe. Talk about your long distance relationship. It's been over a year since she's seen him. Granted it's been about six months since I've been on a date too, but she wins. My biggest problem is I can't stand idiots and yet, I attract them. I'm like a crazy cat lady for losers. Jane used to tell me I unconsciously sabotage my relationships because my standards are too high. I'm sorry, is it so terrible to want a guy who knows that a Coccyx is not his ding dong?

"Thor will return shortly after Loki, according to his message. He is going to make sure that the realm is secure before leaving," Fury informs us. "He and Odin are both in agreement that it would be best if Loki was monitored by his brother. We'll keep him in the cell briefly, and then hopefully, reassess and he will be released on a trial basis into a living situation, where he will have to learn how to live without the luxury of his power."

"Yes, because supervillains _always_ want to be redeemed," I mutter, already exhausted and shooting Jane an accusatory look. "Opportunity my _ass."_ I could be selling rubber bands right now.

Okay, I'm going to admit, when I see the apartment, I feel slightly better about this situation. It's fully furnished with state of the art appliances and Stark technology. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms (one of which is a gigantic walk in shower.) I may or may not nearly weep at the sight of the king sized bed in the master bedroom with sleek white linens and a vase of fuchsia orchids on the dresser. I flop onto the bed and stare at the ceiling.

I'm home.

Bring it on, Loki. I _dare_ you.


	2. Trick or Treat?

**Thanks for the response! I was kind of surprised. But in a good way. **

**I own NOTHING. **

* * *

My first day at S.H.I.E.L.D. is kind of boring. Since my assignment involves Thor's brat of a little brother (Who Tony fondly refers to as "Reindeer Games"), I'm pretty much just kind of scoping the place out and bracing myself for the impact. Which is how I find Captain America staring forlornly down at what looks like a pocket watch during my lunch break. I sigh, groaning at the puppy dog expression on his handsome face and slap my tray down across from him.

"Rough day, Captain?" I ask, ferociously biting a French fry and offering him one, which he objects. I'm not sure if they had fries in the forties, but he doesn't know what he's missing. There are some things you don't refuse in life. Free stuff, jewelry and hot French fries. He looks up, starting as he realizes he's been caught. He discreetly shuts the pocket watch thingy and pockets it.

"Nothing to be concerned about, ma'am," He assures me, adopting a polite smile on his face and making me snort.

"Ma'am? I'm sorry, do I _look_ fifty?" I laugh, taking a bite of my cheeseburger as Captain America stares at me like I'm some kind of alien life form. "Call me Darcy," I reach my hand across (after wiping it off) for him to shake. He stares at it for a moment, eyebrows furrowed, before he complies.

"Steve," He finally replies. "It's a little strange getting used to the culture shock," He admits, "In my day, we called girls by their formal names." His eyes fall on Natasha Romanoff, "For example, Miss Romanoff."

"I think she'd probably kick your windpipe in," I observe, noting her heels. "And I don't think it would be pretty in those stilettos." I wink at him, "Also, if you say 'in my day' again, I am reserving the right to rip on you."

"Is that the wrong expression?" Steve asks in bemusement. "What would be a better option?"

"Um," I chew my food thoughtfully, "Ah, screw it, 'in my day' is fine." I notice him smile a little at me. "So, what's got you down, Steve?" He sighs resignedly.

"It's nothing. It's just, I had a date and I missed it."

I stare at him blankly, not understanding the need for depression. "So, call her and apologize. No harm done."

Steve winces, shaking his head sadly. "It's not that simple, I'm afraid. I missed a date seventy years ago." I raise my eyebrows, whistling in surprise.

"That _is _a long time," I agree, offering him another fry, which he accepts this time, biting into it and nodding approvingly.

"That's delicious."

"One of my weaknesses," I grin, gesturing for him to help himself. "So, who was this girl?"

"She was my superior in the Army," He admits, "Peggy Carter, her name was. She was strong and intelligent and she had a face like an angel."

"And she was your girlfriend?" I urge, taking another bite of the burger. His eyes darken and he shakes his head.

"No. Unfortunately, that was supposed to be our first date," He murmurs, lost in thought.

"Sorry," I offer, unsure of what to say, "Tough break, man." We fall silent for a second, and then I brighten, getting an idea. Jane hates when I get ideas. "Tell you what. Why don't we all go out, and I'll be your wing man?"

"Wing man?" He asks, looking uncertain.

"Ya know, I'll help you chat up girls. We can plan it out. I'll like, pretend to break your heart or something, and you can get sympathy. Works like a charm. I should know, I've fallen for it…twice." He just stares. I put my hands up in surrender. "_Okay_, three times!"

"And that…works?" Steve inquires incredulously.

"Well, it shouldn't," I admit sheepishly, "But, girls are pretty dumb sometimes. I once saw a girl believe that a guy was dying and had twenty-four hours to live. They did it right there in the bathroom."

"Did…what?" I stare at him pointedly, raising one eyebrow, until realization comes into his blue eyes and his jaw drops. "_Oh._" It's adorable, because his face turns so red that his ears are blushing. I forget how proper those forties dudes were. I'm about to say something else, when I notice Fury, Stark and Clint walking toward me. I practically gulp in sudden apprehension.

"Agent Lewis," Fury addresses me, weirding me out. Yesterday, I was Darcy Lewis, graduate of U.C.L.A. Today, I'm _Agent _Lewis, and I'm about to go face to face with the guy who just tried to take over the world. Piece of cake.

"Yes, your honor," I stand up, wondering if I'm supposed to salute him or something. I notice Steve snickering a little at me.

"At ease," Tony quips, winking. I roll my eyes at him.

"They're here," Fury informs us grimly. Steve rises suddenly, moving around the table to stand beside me.

"Sir," He addresses Fury, "Maybe it would be best if I accompanied her in. Do you really want to leave her alone with that…wise guy?"

"Ooh, burn," I add dryly, snickering. "Thanks for the support, Cap." I thump him on the back, preparing to follow them into the holding cell, where they're keeping the God of Bullshit.

I have to say, I'm a little unimpressed when I see him. I mean, you have Thor, who's this giant, beefy monster (And currently in the corner so far wrapped around Jane, I can't tell where he ends and she begins. Gross.) I cringe and turn to the table in the middle of the room. And then, there's this guy. He looks pretty tall, but significantly less…steroidy. He has black hair, hanging messily to his shoulders and he looks like he hasn't slept in decades. Steve touches my shoulder, speaking into my ear.

"I'll be right outside the door," He tells me.

"Thanks, Cap," I salute him, swallowing my pride and watching Stark take a picture of Thor and Jane with his phone, before leaving with them. I roll my eyes, grabbing two bottles of water off of the counter just inside the door and cross to the table, offering one to him. He stares at it as if it's poison. "Relax, Fabio," I tell him, sitting across from him, "It's sealed. I can't drug it."

"I'm sorry?"

"You should be," I return, opening my own bottle of water. "What you pulled was a dick move." I observe him closely as he eyes the bottle of water and twists the cap off, sniffing it. "Dude, I promise, it's just water. I need you alive and sober." He warily glances at me, contemplating.

"You're a strange mortal."

"Um, I'm going to take that as a compliment," I mutter, grabbing the folder on the end of the table. "Alright, here's the deal, Sparky—"

"Loki," He corrects calmly, clasping his hands beneath his chin.

"Whatever," I reply dismissively, "The point _is,_ I'm supposed to convince you to turn back to the good side and help S.H.I.E.L.D. with a plan of action for these Jotuns. Ya follow?"

"I can assure you that the Jotuns and I are _not_ in any sort of alliance," Loki responds wryly, "I killed their king."

"Do you know who they could be in alliance with?" I press, feeling inadequate. He a slick little bastard, leaning across the table and bearing his eyes into mine. It's a little unnerving, because they're like this electric blue green color, but what gets me is they're cold. Like he doesn't feel _anything._ And that's freaky.

"Even if I did," He purrs, "I wouldn't tell you." I glower at him, resisting the urge to punch him in the face and letting my eyes fall to his leather cuffed wrist.

"Nice bracelet," I comment sharply, challenging him, "Fashion statement?"

"Don't push me, girl…"

"Or what?" I laugh, "You'll floof me to death with that hair?" His eyes narrow on me, but he backs down, looking sullenly off to the side, probably wishing he could mind explode the wall right now.

"You think you're so clever, Darcy Lewis," He finally says in a low, chilling voice, "Age twenty-four, graduate of the University of California, Los Angeles, dually majoring in Cultural Anthropology and Political Science." My eyes widen as my heart begins to race in apprehension as his eyes turn back on me, "That's right, pretty mortal. I've done my research too. I know all about you and your futile little life. Your mother didn't love you and so she left you in the care of her sister and her husband, in favor of a man she met in a bowling alley." He sneers at me, "Do not underestimate me, for even though I have no magic at present, I can assure you that I will get it back. And when I do, I can only hope you have the good sense to fear me." I feel a shiver run through me as I find myself without a retort for the first time in years. He sits back in satisfaction, twisting his mouth into a smug smirk. For I second, I feel useless, because I've failed. I've done exactly what everyone warned me about. I let him get in my head. That's when I get pissed and stand, leaning over the table and slowly curving my mouth into a wide smile.

"You're good, little boy, I'll give you that." He opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off, "Nope. I'm talking now, Slick. You're going to have to do a lot better than that if you want to push my buttons. You don't have any little magic tricks to hide behind here. Guess you're no better than us mere mortals." I beam even wider. "For the record, that cuff really is balla. You look like a rock star." With that, I walk out as casually as I can manage, closing the door behind me and sagging against it when it's latched as I try to catch my breath.

"Darcy," Steve's concerned voice comes from nearby. "Are you alright? Did he try to—"

"Nah, I'm good. Nothing a bottle of red wine won't fix," I assure him, standing straight again and noticing Thor watching in concern.

"He's not the most humble person in the universe," He admits, looking apologetic. I give him a tired look.

"Really? He seems like a freaking peach," I grumble, stalking past them at the sight of Fury and Dr. Banner ahead.

"Any luck?" He asks doubtfully. I shake my head.

"I think he's still pouting because he's being punished," I muse, eyeing the vending machine longingly. "I think I pissed him off a little. He tried to play mind games, but I didn't let him get to me." _Much._

"Good work, Agent Lewis," Fury nods approvingly. "We'll keep trying. I want you to draw up a report on your conversation this afternoon." I nod, swallowing and sighing in relief as they all drift away, speaking softly to each other. Steve hovers nearby, and I notice Dr. Banner watching me carefully.

"Didn't let him get to you, huh?"

"Yeah, well…nothing I can't handle," I assure him tightly, feeling a little tired, which is pathetic since that entire conversation lasted _maybe_ ten minutes. "If he would just quit being such a…a…"

"Obstinate fat-head?" Cap suggests, making me snort.

"More or less," I nod, feeling slightly better. "I was going to go for Cryptic Douche-bag, but fat-head works too."

"Maybe you should change your approach," Banner says gently, making my brows furrow in confusion.

"Like what? Smack him around a little?" I reply sarcastically. He looks down at his feet, smiling in that quiet innate way of his.

"Not quite so…violent…" He explains, "Loki is a proud creature. His pride is wounded and he's lashing out by being uncooperative. Violence won't work on him."

"Says the fellow who body slammed him into a cement floor," Steve jokes, sharing a grin with him. "Tony's still complaining about that floor."

"What I'm trying to say," Banner continues, turning red and refocusing on me, "is have you ever heard the term 'Kill them with kindness?'"

"Yeah," I reply acidly, "I try to avoid that philosophy when at all possible." This amuses him.

"Well, the thing is, the longer you treat someone like a villain, the more likely they are to start believing that's all they can possibly be." His eyes are kind, but his words are firm, "I speak from experience."

"Oh," I deflate in embarrassment, "Dr. Banner, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, man. I mean, normally, I wouldn't give two shits what people think, but—"

"It's okay," He chuckles, "I'm not offended. I'm just saying, I know what it's like to be treated like the enemy. Until I came to S.H.I.E.L.D., I was hiding from the world. Maybe what Loki really needs, is to learn how to be human."

My eyes creep back to the closed door of the interrogation room. "First step…how to use a hairbrush," I laugh, slapping Steve on the arm. "Eh?" He looks like he doesn't know what to make of me, so I rein it in, biting my lower lip. "Yeah, I got it. Be nice to him and junk. Is there a vending machine around here?"

"Why?" Banner asks, looking around vaguely.

"I'm gonna need some powdered donuts and a Mountain Dew," I explain, adding, "And maybe something for the psychopath." I grin at Cap. "Let's rock this bitch."

"What?" He's clearly lost.

"Nevermind," I sigh, earning a small smile from Dr. Banner. "I'm just gonna go get my treats. You want something?"

"I…" Steve shakes his head, suddenly distracted. "No, thank you." I follow his eyes to where a blonde woman is trying to get around two big guys to the soda machine. "Excuse me."

"Look, Buddy," I can hear her say, "I don't want to hurt you. Can you just move, so I can get my Diet Coke and get back to my paper work." I share a glance with Banner.

"Not until you agree to go out with me," The beefier and significantly dumber looking of two leers down at her. She's a small girl, deceptively lean, but I have a feeling she's a little sturdier than she lets on.

"Sorry," She answers dryly, "I'm training to be a nun."

"Come on, Thirteen…I'll make it worth your while! I'll even pay." The guy smirks, reaching for her waist. That's when Steve picks up the pace, but before he even reaches them, she's taken down both guys and has a foot on the big guy's chest with her gun pointed at his forehead. This chick is my new idol. (Sorry, Cher. You had a good run.)

"Touch me again and I'll jam this gun up your ass and shoot it," She growls, making me want to clap excitedly. (I don't. I have _some_ restraint.)

"That's right, A-hole!" I call out encouragingly as people gather around.

I said _some._

Dr. Banner tries to hide his amusement, but his mouth is dangerously close to a grin.

"I like this one, Pepper," I hear Tony Stark say from behind me, "Can we keep her? Please?" I turn just in time to see Pepper roll her eyes at him, smacking his arm and muttering something like "Ridiculous," under her breath. But it's easy to see that she's on the verge of laughter.

Steve reaches the blonde, obviously on some idiotic chivalrous mission as he touches her shoulder. She reacts…well…unfavorably, and punches him in the gut. To his credit, he doesn't budge. Must be the Super Soldier thing. It's freaking cool.

"Easy, Miss…" He tells her with his hands up in surrender. Her eyes narrow on him, and then grow wide with realization of who he is. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," She barks back, slanting her eyes at him, "I can take care of myself. I don't need Captain America to come to my rescue."

"I'm thinking a June wedding," Tony quips, looking around. "Anyone else want to place a bet?" A couple of people laugh as everyone gets back to work and Steve walks back toward us, looking humiliated. I pout my lower lip, feeling bad for the poor, sweet sap.

"Walk it off, bro," I tell him sympathetically, brushing by him and running over to the vending machines. Powdered donuts? Check. Mountain Dew. Double check. And a bag of Funyuns for good measure. With an armful of goodies, I pass Thor who gives me an odd look as I attempt to open the door with no free hands. Luckily, someone grabs it for me, turning the lock and letting me in. My bestie is staring out the window, looking over the destruction he caused. For a second, I wonder if he's feeling any remorse. _Yeah, right. More like, sorry he got caught._ I loudly dump the stuff on the table and sit back in the seat, removing my jacket and starting on the wrapper. This catches El Wacko's attention.

"Got you some goodies," I tell him, not sparing a glance as I wolf a donut down in one bite. Those things have to be laced with crack. I swear. I could eat like four packs. I crack my can of Dew open, and nudge his across the table to him, before speaking with my mouth full. "You open it like this," I demonstrate, opening his Mountain Dew and sliding it over to him. He catches it in his hand, looking at it like it might explode. I kick off my heels, continuing to ugly eat my junk food while Thor's baby bro watches in horror.

"Why are you doing this?" He asks, glaring at me. "I threatened you."

"And?" I shrug. "Jane threatens me like, every day. What the hell do I care?" I point at the donuts. "Seriously, you want to eat those." His eyes drop to the package on the table, as he tentatively reaches out to touch it. I grab the bag of Funyuns and open them, taking a handful and washing it down with a gulp of Mountain Dew.

"Your table manners are atrocious," He snaps, but he has the donuts opened, taking one out and cautiously sniffing it like he did the water.

"So's your hair," I laugh, wiping the powdered sugar off of my face with the back of my hand. I figure the fastest way to become friends with somebody is show them that you're comfortable with them. "Seriously man, I have some awesome conditioner. You can borrow it if you want."

"What are you doing?" He asks, watching me carefully as I devour the sixth and final donut in my pack.

"I figure, you and me…we're gonna be spending some time together. Might as well make the best of it." I watch him take a small (and by small, I mean tiny) bite of the donut and see his eyes widen in surprise. Yeah, they're _that _good. "Ooh!" I cry. "Maybe tomorrow I'll bring in some D.V.D.'s. You ever hear of the T.V. show _Friends?"_

"What is a T.V. Show?" He asks dryly, already on the third donut. I suppress the urge to fist pump the air in triumph. I'm going to feed this bitch sugar treats until he loves me.

"It's a…y'know what? I'll show you." I point to his drink. "For real, you have to try this." His eyes narrow at it and he keeps his leery eyes on me as he takes a drink, pulling it back to look at it.

"What is this?"

"Mountain Dew. Every parent's nightmare," I smirk, "Full of sugar and caffeine and things that are bad for you. But that's why it's _so_ good…"

"It's…delicious," He muses, sounding shocked. I laugh out loud, nodding.

"Yep. Stick with me, I know my shit," I tell him. "Alright," I set the remains of my destroyed treats aside and lean over the table. "Let's start over now. I'm sorry I was an ass before. I was a total bitch and that's crappy."

"Mortal, I don't know what angle you think you're playing—"

I shake my head, holding my hand up to stop him. "No angle. Dr. Banner just pointed out that you might be more receptive if I were," I sigh, "Nicer."

"Dr. Banner," He repeats, eyes widening. That's when I notice the first actual emotion I've seen on his face. _Fear._ Really? Of all people, he's scared of _Bruce._ The nicest guy on the planet. (Oh yeah, the fact that he morphs into the Jolly Green Giant on 'roids probably has something to do with it.)

"Relax, Darth Vader, Banner isn't going to Hulk out on you," I chuckle, taking the bag of Funyuns and offering one to him. Hesitantly, he takes one and bites into it, chewing thoughtfully. Another look of pleasant surprise on his face. "Good, right?" He doesn't answer, but the fact that he takes another, and then another tells me all I need to know. It's oddly fascinating watching this guy experience Funyuns and Mountain Dew for the first time. It makes me want to see him do other things, like watch _The Rocky Horror Picture Show _for the first time.

I get an idea. (Jane _really_ hates when I get ideas.)

I call in Fury, Thor and Jane…which naturally leads to the room being full of pretty much every Avenger, including Banner, who Loki kind of cowers away from, making me bite the inside of my cheek to keep from dying of laughter.

"Okay, so here's my suggestion," I say to the room, pointing at Loki, "He can't do magic. We're not trying to incarcerate him, we want him to help us. Correct?"

"Where ya going with this, Lewis?" Stark asks, watching Loki suspiciously and stealing a Funyun.

"I propose that Loki and Thor move into Jane's apartment." The room falls silent as people stare at me like I've grown an extra limb or something.

"I don't have room," Jane inserts quickly.

"Which is _why_ you should move in with _me,_" I finish for her, shrugging. "That way, he's across the hall from us at night, so we can kind of keep an eye on him. Right?" Nothing. Apparently, I've gone crazy and I'm probably going to be thrown into a padded room with this guy so we can live out our days playing Pat-A-Cake and singing kindergarten songs while rocking back and forth. Figures.

"Why can't he move in with you?" Jane asks, clearly fishing for naked fun time with the God of Thunder. I cringe, unable to even look at Thor.

"Loki is my responsibility, Jane," Thor says firmly, earning a doe eyed love stare from Jane. Blech. "I like this idea, Darcy."

"I think you're the only one," I mumble, noticing the prisoner in question is simply looking back and forth between people, judging us all with his eyes.

"No, I think it's got its advantages," Tony nods, "Stark Tower is highly monitored. We can keep an eye on him and we're all here."

"Oh, _goody_…" Loki drones dryly, rolling his eyes and taking a sip of his soda. I ignore that and look at Fury hopefully. He seems to be thinking it over, which is a good sign…I think.

"I'll have to agree as well," He sighs. "It would definitely cut back expenses, mainly the high security cell." He turns to Tony, "Can you set up some sort of tracking device that we can put on him."

"Child's play," Tony huffs, looking back at Loki. "Maybe a nice leather cuff to match the other one?" The look on Loki's face is murderous, but he says nothing.

"Perfect," Fury nods, satisfied as he looks to me once again. "Excellent work, Lewis. Since it was your idea, I'm making you personally responsible for Loki when Thor is otherwise engaged." A vision of Jane and Thor scrumping on my beautiful white sofa makes me want to barf, but I vaguely nod, wondering what the hell I've just gotten myself into.

"Good luck," Tony says sardonically into my ear. I turn a wide grin on my new buddy, determined to disarm the sneaky bastard by "killing him with kindness."

"Awesome!" I grin, thumping him on the back, "Pizza, beer and _Friends._ Tonight at eight! Your place."

"I hope you know what you're doing," says Fury skeptically.

"Call me if you have trouble, Darcy," Steve adds, before leaving.

"Don't call me," Tony chimes in, wickedly grinning. "Date night."

Here goes nothing.


	3. Brawn and Brains and Candy Crush

I'm a woman of my word. One of the perks of being a resident of Stark Tower is that I can call down to the receptionist in the lobby and half an hour later, I have a piping hot Chicago style pizza on its way, a twelve pack of cold beer and my battered old D.V.D. set of the first season of _Friends._ I head across the hall to the equally impressive penthouse there and rap on the door. Jane throws it open a moment later, waving me in before frantically flitting about, trying to gather things to bring over to our place.

"You're not moving to the moon, Jane. It's like five feet away," I tell her, noticing Thor is sitting in an armchair, trying to figure out how to work the remote for the T.V. Patiently, I set the beer on the counter and carefully take the remote (which he's pointing like a magic wand at the T.V.) and press the 'Power' button.

"Brilliant!" He cries, impressed. "It's like magic."

"To a witless simpleton, perhaps," Loki's biting tone comes from the direction of the couch. I force myself to smile and throw him a grin over my shoulder.

"_There's _my buddy!" I grab three beers and toss one to Thor, who catches it without looking up and downs it in one gulp. Moving to the sofa, I hand one to Sour Puss and attend to putting the first disc into the D.V.D. player and sitting on the opposite side of the couch from him.

"I'm not your buddy," His dry response is immediate and sullen, his eyes settling on the screen as the theme song for _Friends_ blares through the apartment. The door buzzer goes off, making me nearly clap my hands in excitement, leaping off of the couch.

"That'll be the pizza," I explain as Jane flies back into the room with two full suitcases that she can barely lift. "Jesus, Jane…I don't even _own_ that much stuff."

"Come, Jane," Thor says, taking pity on her, "Let me assist you with your luggage." Jane's eyes widen hopefully as I buzz in the pizza. They don't even mutter a goodbye before disappearing into the hall and out of the apartment.

"I don't think they're coming back," I muse, pursing my lips. No response. We're back to uncomfortable silence. The pizza arrives about five minutes later (the elevator takes a while to get up fifteen floors), and I bring it back to the counter, noticing the brand new leather cuff on Loki's other wrist. I dish out two pieces of pizza and slap the plate down on the coffee table in front of him. "You're welcome." I settle in, wolfing down the giant slice of pizza as I pretend to watch the show.

"What is appealing about this?" He finally breaks the silence after the first episode ends. I'm on slice number three and pondering four when I stop mid-bite and glance over at him.

"Pizza, beer or _Friends?"_ I ask, wondering what fault he could possibly find with any of them. He nods toward the screen.

"What care have I for these insignificant mortal nothings?" He spits, rolling his eyes in contempt. I focus on him intently for a few moments, before cracking up and smacking his arm.

"You're a trip, you know that?" His look of confusion is priceless. "Did you guys have theatre back on Pandora or wherever you're from?"

"Asgardian theatre can hardly be compared to this drivel," He bites back, eyes cold. I refuse to allow him to intimidate me, even if he is about as cuddly as a cobra.

"You know, for the God of Mischief, you're kind of a dud," I inform him, turning back to the T.V. as a second, deciding to wait on that fourth piece and grab another beer. I can feel him watching me balefully, probably plotting my slow, painful death once he's back in capacity of his powers. The distant sound of something breaking makes both of us snap our heads toward the door. "Oh, _hell_ no…that better not have been anything I own. Your brother doesn't waste time, eh?"

"He is not my brother," He answers acidly, setting his plate aside, his beer untouched.

"Why? Because you're adopted?" I scoff, feeling a small rush of indignation as I poke him in the shoulder, making him start in surprise, recoiling. "Yeah," I nod, "I read your file of crazy."

"You dare touch me, mortal?"

"Ugh, _enough_ with the blah, blah mortal crap," I growl, "Listen up, Crab Ass. You have _got _to get this bug out of your butt about Thor and your Dad. When I was eleven, my mom decided I was cramping her style and left me on my Aunt's doorstep Moses in the reeds style. I was taken in, no questions asked, and I was never treated any differently than their kids. When I get stuck for money, they bail me out. When I don't come home for Christmas, they ask why. They're my family and I have never questioned their love for me."

"Then you're a fool," He responds calmly, prying my fingers off of his shirt. I fall back, feeling a jolt of energy like an electric shock. His eyes widen momentarily, making me realize that wasn't in my head. Quickly, I reach for my bottle of beer and take a long, burning swig.

_At least I'm not selling rubber bands any more. _

Yeah, like this is much better. I'm sitting on a couch with the dude that just tried to take out New York City with a bunch of aliens. Maybe it's a sign. I've got to get out and start dating. Maybe I can convince Steve to be my wing man. One thing I do know…this Bozo would be crap as a wing man. Honestly, I can't even imagine the guy interacting with people, period. We're all just bugs to him, I'm guessing. Outside Communications Analyst is a word S.H.I.E.L.D. made up to entice me out to New York and work for these people and babysit their bratty kid.

"When's the last time you got laid?" I finally ask, finishing off the beer. His green eyes settle coldly on me, uncomprehending. "Ya know…when is the last time you got naked with a lady type?" I pause, having a dark thought, "Or a guy type. I mean, whatever floats your boat. Equal rights all the way." I put up my fist to show solidarity.

"Such things are not for the ears of ladies," He mutters disapprovingly.

"Ah, so now I'm a lady and not just a mortal!" I smirk. "I'm taking that as progress." I poke him again, getting another murderous look. "Come on…when? Don't you dare get all judgy on me Mr. Takes Over the World With a Glow Stick." His refusal to reply eggs me on, "That long, huh?" I pat his shoulder, sighing. "Don't worry, Bud. I'm sure there's an equally unstable villainous alien skank out there for you."

"If it were that pressing an issue, I'm sure I could easily find a wench to lie with," He insists, sipping his beer.

"So, girls then," I nod, raising my eyebrows, impressed. "I'm just kind of relieved you didn't say you were a thousand year old virgin…" He snorts derisively, haughtily staring down at me.

"You insult me. I'm far older than one thousand," He corrects.

"_That's _the insult you take? Not the fact that I was worried you were a virgin? Yeah, that's not something I'd advertise…" I chuckle, folding my legs beneath me, making sure my skirt doesn't ride up.

"Perhaps, it's because your insipid opinion means nothing to me."

"_Ouch,"_ I counter dryly, clutching my chest in mock pain. "You've wounded me, oh God of Pettiness." The door opens then, saving us from making more unsuccessful conversation. We turn to see a half clothed Thor burst in, obviously in search of something. We watch in fascinated silence as he doesn't even spare us a glance, rushing into Jane's bedroom. I hear him rifling through a drawer. I keep my eyes on the hall, waiting for him to emerge and I'm vaguely aware of reaching over to the counter and grabbing Loki another beer, which he accepts. He finally appears, carrying what looks dangerously like a box of condoms and gives us both half a grin before leaving without so much as a goodbye, practically ripping the door off of its hinges.

Okay, first question. Why the eff is Jane keeping condoms in her drawer? I know for a fact that before Big Guy fell out of the sky, the last person she did the nasty with was that tool she used to date. The doctor. She's been waiting for this for a long time, and my poor, beautiful apartment is going to pay for it. Damn it.

"And…there's the cause of my nightmares for the next week," I mutter, absently clicking my bottle with my companion's. "Looks like I'm sleeping here tonight."

"What was that he was carrying?" He asks, making me pause to see if he's for real. Apparently, yes.

"That's what us mere mortals use for contraception," I groan, trying to unsee the visions in my head, and realizing it's been a _long_ time since I've been out with a guy. My longest dry spell since the whole riding around the desert in a van with Darcy and Erik thing. "Ugh, could you imagine?"

"I try not to think of Thor's carnal activities," He responds curtly, helping himself to a piece of pizza. I watch him closely, probably creeping him out (I hope). I nearly dance in satisfaction as I notice how he tries to hide how much he likes it. I also notice him discreetly turn his eyes back to _Friends_ and take another drink of his beer.

The little liar is enjoying himself. So, I decide to have a little fun.

"Y'know," I start, rising and moving toward the D.V.D. player, "Since you don't like this, I'll just turn it off and we'll find something to watch that y—"

"I will make do," He grumbles, trying very hard to look irritated, "You humans have dismal taste in entertainments, but I suppose I have no choice." I bite my lower lip, near hysterical, possibly maniacal laughter.

"You poor martyr," I patronize, patting his head as I grab his empties and mine, moving into the kitchen as he glowers in quiet fury, wiping futilely at his still messy hair. What am I _doing?_ This isn't what I'm supposed to be doing with my degree. I wanted to dig up mummies and learn about ancient cultures, not baby sit a supervillain. Uncle Dan and Aunt Kate would be horrified. As it is, they're wary enough with me working for S.H.I.E.L.D. after the alien attacks a few days before.

What's kind of bugging me, however, is how quickly Thor returned with his horned helmet wearing brother after saying they had to leave. I mean, Fury gave us some half assed explanation about punishments and banishments from Daddy and blah blah alliances with Frost Giants, but call me a cynic. I don't buy it. Why go to all the trouble of using the energy from the cube thingy to send them back if they were going to return less than a day later? Something else is going on here. I'm not a physicist, but I know when I'm being lied to. That bullshit about my Dad walking out on us when I was a baby is exactly that. Sometimes, I have doubts that Jodie even knew who my father is. Or, if she did, she never even bothered to tell him. Which is kind of funny, since I'd peg her for the type to go for child support. Then again, Jodie isn't the sharpest knife in the drawer. I like to think I take after him.

"My, you've been quiet for nearly two minutes," His dry voice comes from the sofa, though he hasn't turned to look at me. I roll my eyes, putting the bottles in the labeled trash can for recycling and throw the rest of the beer in the fridge. I'm gonna need something stronger.

"What's the matter, supervillain, you miss me?" I ask, throwing open a cupboard and sighing in relief when I see a bottle of vodka. Thank goodness for Tony Stark and his enabling ways, stocking each apartment with good booze. Or maybe Pepper is to thank for that. Well, whoever it is, I salute you.

"You just speak so often, I was beginning to wonder if I should be suspicious of your actions," He quips, "Perhaps you will attempt to attack me."

"I'm too lazy for that," I sigh, bringing the bottle and two shot glasses back to the couch. "I leave the attacks and fighting for the heroes. I just do what they tell me." My eyes move to rest on the door out to the hallway. "Although, I didn't sign up for sitting here idly while Jane and Thor defile my brand new apartment with their gross monkey sex."

"Thor has never been one for half measures," He agrees in an annoyed tone. "Even when we were children, he was a loud, boisterous lout, while I was quieter. Thor yearned for adventure while I yearned for knowledge." His vocal timbre changes as he says this, growing softer, more reverent. He almost sounds…mortal.

I offer him a shot of vodka, which he accepts, drinking it without a wince. I'm slightly impressed, though careful not to let him know that. No need to feed that already gigantic ego. "You guys had fun together though, didn't you?" I press, wondering what I can get out of him.

"We were quite a daunting pair, I'm sure," He concedes, "Thor was the brawn, while I was the brains. We would play tricks on people." A sudden, alarming grin comes to his face. "I remember once, when I was but a boy, we fooled Lady Sif into—" He stops abruptly, looking up and realizing he's caught.

"It's okay," I tell him, pouring us both another shot. "I won't tell Thor that you still love him."

"Do not attempt to pretend there is good in me where there is none," He snaps, angrily downing his shot. I gladly do the same and pour another for us.

"I never said there was good in you. If you're trying to convince me that you're still a Class-A twat, mission accomplished, good buddy," I click our shot glasses together. "I just said that you love Thor."

"I don't."

"Liar," I sing, taking the shot and reveling in the burning sensation it brings along with the head rush. "Liar, liar, liar. You love Thor. I can see it in your face when you talk about him. It's fine. I still love my mother even though she dumped me. I get it."

"You know nothing of me," Loki hisses, grabbing the bottle from me and pouring his own shot. I snatch it back, doing the same for myself.

"You're right," I fire, "And I don't want to." We both drink at the same time, glaring daggers at each other.

* * *

I wake up to an obnoxious buzzing sound with a throbbing head and a very dry mouth. I realize I'm in a bed and I don't remember how I got here. To be safe, I double check to make sure that my clothes are, in fact, on my body and that there are no bodily fluids anywhere near me. The faint sound of the walk-in shower make my eyes open.

_5:30 A.M. _

I drag my heavy, alcohol weary limbs out of Jane's bed and stumble as my stomach roils a little. Must. Get. Water. I move into the kitchen, turning on the faucet with shaking hands and grabbing the closest glass I can find. I drink the whole thing in one go, even though I nearly choke myself, spitting up water and having a little travel up into my nose, making everything even more uncomfortable. I ignore it, filling up the glass again and drinking as quickly as I can, coughing a little this time as I set the glass down, leaning over the sink and fully preparing to spew all over the stainless steel.

"I forget how susceptible you mortals are to the effects of alcohol," A smug voice comes into the room, unfortunately along with the crackpot attached to it.

"Ha," I answer shortly, feeling a heave coming. I wonder if I'll make it to the toilet, but I don't want to take the chance and ruin the pristine white carpeting. I'm glad _he's_ fine, while I'm about to die. I turn my head slightly; still bent over the sink and notice he's still glossy from the shower he took. That crazy hair is neatly brushed and slicked back, making him look significantly less like a hobo. The puke urge passes after a few frightening moments and I find the will to stand up completely. The sight of the Keurig in the corner is a welcome one, as I fish around for a K-Cup to make a cup of coffee along with a B-12 vitamin. I have two hours to pull myself together before I head up to headquarters with Vader here.

I'm probably going to have to sneak into the apartment across the hall at some point and get some new clothes. I cannot show up for my second day to work in a rumpled skirt and blouse…that I wore yesterday. The last thing I need is for my co-workers to think I've been taking my work home with me and into my bed. (I've never been so grateful to wake up fully clothed.) After my coffee, I leave Captain Crazy reading on the couch and take the fastest shower of my life, wrapping my body in the biggest towel I can find. I keep my eyes on the floor as I head across to the dreaded sex damaged apartment I'll be sharing with Jane.

I knock twice on the door.

"Coming in. Cover your shit!" I call out, using my key on the door and trying not to look around the messy apartment as I rush into my bedroom, fishing out a modest black dress and jacket, quickly dressing. I bolt out of the room and run smack into very shirtless Thor.

_Don't look down. Don't look down._

"Darcy!" He exclaims, nodding good morning and stepping around me back into Jane's room. I mutter something under my breath in response and return as quickly as possible to the other apartment, where our favorite inmate has figured out the satellite remote and is paging through the guide thoughtfully.

"Ancient Aliens?" I ask, noting with a hint of amusement the program he's settled on. "How fitting."

"Hmm," is his only acknowledgment. I grab my coffee off the counter and sit beside him on the couch, becoming enthralled in the program as well. This is definitely in my field. Hieroglyphics and ancient texts. We're both so into it that we don't realize what time it is until Jane comes in with Thor, fully dressed and in work-mode. (Not my favorite Jane mode.)

"Were you planning on coming to work, or…?" She asks bossily, glancing between the pair of us. "I have to get up there. Erik, Bruce and I are working on portal blocks."

"Impossible without magic," Loki tells her dismissively, glancing over. "Your physics are no match for the power of the Tesseract." Her eyes blaze indignantly.

"Uh oh…you woke the dragon," I whisper out of the side of my mouth.

"We'll see," She insists, "I think there's a good chance we can reverse the energy of the Tesseract."

"When that fails, I suppose I'll be required to assist with that," Loki shoots at her snarkily. She spins on her heel in a huff, making Thor give his brother look imploringly at him.

"Have a care, Brother," He pleads, to which Loki sneers viscously.

"Don't call me Brother."

"Don't be such a butthole," I warn, snatching the remote and turning the T.V. off. "Come on. I'll buy you some donuts." This seems to sway him, though he still doesn't seem happy about it. Thor and I make small talk about shawarma. For some reason, the big lug has developed an appetite for it. Me, I'm more of a Shish-Taouk gal, but a good shawarma is pretty damn satisfying. Jane sulks in the corner, still seething about being sassed by the Crown Prince of Douchery. She's really not good at being told she's wrong. Jane is one of those people who will go out of her way to prove she's right, even with insignificant stuff like actors in movies, so being told she's wrong by the dude who tried to kill us with a metal death robot is probably festering in her mind like a weeping ulcer. I get it. She feels like she has something to prove, because she's one of the only female physicists at S.H.I.E.L.D.. I much prefer being the loud, crude Ernie to her Bert.

The elevator dings as we reach the main level. The transition from New Mexico to New York headquarters is still very much under way, and it still looks less like an office and more like Tony Stark's bachelor heaven. To the right, is a swanky white leather sofa, not unlike the furnishings in the apartments below, decorated with futuristic looking tables and abstract art. That is now being used as a makeshift conference area.

The "interrogation" room that Loki was brought into yesterday after their arrival back, is really just a dining room with a long glass table and a buffet counter. The sounds of construction are unmistakable as the efforts to turn this and the other top nine floors into an actual organization headquarters get underway. Business is still being done in the facility out in New Mexico until the completion of Stark Tower. The faint sound of Pepper Potts speaking with the head contractor comes from the side where tarps are being put up. It reminds me of when you go to a restaurant that's renovating and they have a sign that says: 'Open for business during renovations.' I wonder briefly if Fury would let us just hang out in the apartment, since I'm a glorified villain-sitter.

Ugh, I can just see my future resume.

"_Um, Miss Lewis, it says here that you spent some months babysitting the war criminal Loki? Is that why you live alone with forty cats?" _

To which I will respond, _"My cats are my children. I am not a hoarder. I'm completely happy. You don't KNOW me!"_

Then, I'll return to my room above Thor and Jane's garage and drink myself into a stupor while their gigantic, super smart brats who refer to me as Crazy Aunt Darcy…or more likely, Old Lady Lewis. (I'm guessing Uncle Megatron will live in the basement of their house. Or possibly, a loony bin on Asgard.) Is that our destiny? I'm gonna be stuck with this clown until I die of old age, single and childless?

I return to the here and now, stalking toward the interrogation room with Megatron himself and two guards trailing behind me. People stop to look at him and glare, sending hate vibes as he proudly marches past them with an air of superiority. One woman visibly cowers at the sight of him, flattening herself against the wall.

"Quit scaring the natives," I sneak a peek at him over my shoulder, snickering at his stony look of irritation as we reach our destination. Another guard opens the door for me and I give him a couple bucks, instructing him to get a couple packs of powdered donuts and some Mountain Dew for the hostage. I silently take out my iPad and absently mess with it, playing a round of Candy Crush. I figure, I'll try to wait him out. Last night was decidedly unsuccessful, other than getting piss drunk and passing out. A mistake I'm still paying for, according to the throbbing in my forehead. I set the iPad down in defeat, unable to look at the moving, lit screen without feeling the urge to heave, so I put my arm over my eyes and lay my head back.

A moment later, I can hear the light click of the iPad being unlocked and the unmistakable theme music of Candy Crush. I remove my arm, opening an eye and seeing the God of Lies himself hunched over the device, his wan face illuminated by the light of the screen. For a second, he's just a guy. Maybe a year or two older than herself, and in his concentration, his face changes. The tension dissipates slightly. The frown lines disappear, and he almost looks peaceful, content as he fiercely swipes the screen with one fingertip to clear the jelly in the game. I consider snatching it out of his hands like a preschooler who can't share, but something in his expression makes me hesitate. He could almost pass for human. I grin, making notes for my afternoon report on a legal pad.

The door opens, allowing Captain America in, dressed in full stars and stripes, carrying the treats I asked for.

"You look like the Fourth of July," I tell him, winking and making his face turn a hilarious shade of pink. He sets the food on the table. "What's with the getup?"

"Fury is employing me to train the newer recruits this afternoon. He thought the suit might be a good motivator." He gives me an uncomfortable look. "But, um…" His eyes settle nervously on Candy Crush over there. "He thinks that you should…have some combat training."

"I…" I stare at him, "I'm sorry?"

"Well, you're technically a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent now, and he has a point. Especially since you're…" He nods at Vader.

"So you can protect yourself from Big Bad Me," Megamind chimes in, nodding smugly as he beats the level I've been stuck on for two weeks. He looks up expectantly, turning cold green eyes on Captain America. "Am I wrong?" A muscle in Steve's jaw ticks as he glares at the man who failed at taking over the world.

"No," He finally admits, "It wouldn't hurt." I hear a snort of derision behind us, ignoring it.

"Well, that's really nice and all, but do I look like I have an athletic bone in my body?" I ask, holding my arms out as if it's proof enough. "I mean, I go to the gym sometimes, but fighting? Nope. That's what guns are for."

"Nonetheless," Steve sighs, "I think it's a good idea. Not just because of Loki, but you need to be able to protect yourself working for this organization. You never know when a threat could pop up." He pats my shoulder encouragingly, "You're a strong girl."

"Steve, you've known me exactly twenty-four hours," I point out dryly, "For all you know, I could be a closet crack head with a klepto problem." Nope. Nothing. He has no idea what I'm talking about. Girls back in his time didn't do crack. "A drug addict who steals stuff," I translate, patting his muscled arm. Normally, I'd be ogling him in a borderline sexual harassment kind of way, but Steve is giving off mad big brother vibes and I'm surprised that I actually feel no attraction for him. He's a beautiful specimen, but I'm sad to say, not my type. Not that I actually even thought I had a type. I once dated a guy who thought an appropriate date was dressing up and going to Comic Con. It's kind of a relief, not wanting to jump Cap's bones, because I have a feeling he's more fickle than a Jane Austen character on her wedding night. "I'll think about it," I finally groan in defeat, not relishing the thought of getting up at four A.M. to run drills with the other S.H.I.E.L.D. dorks.

"We'll talk later," He agrees, sending one more shrewd look at the supervillain before leaving swiftly. I sink into a chair, weakly grabbing my pack of donuts and glaring across at him.

"You suck," I grumble, cracking open the Mountain Dew. He says nothing, only raises his eyes briefly, before returning to his game. Figures.

He gives me a haughty, triumphant look as he beats yet another level while I scowl, scarfing down a donut.

I swear, when I'm done with training, I'm going to beat his ass into next week.

* * *

**I can't thank everyone enough for reading and reviewing and being so supportive. Cheers.**


	4. Nuggets of Chicken

**Thank you all for being so kind. I'm just really trying (and probably failing) not to screw this up horribly. But I really do appreciate the reviews and alerts. The story is starting to move now, so it will get better. **

**Cheers!**

* * *

Despite my extremely vocal protests (whining), I find myself in the "training room" the following morning, two hours before sunrise, dressed in the training uniform that was sent up to my apartment the previous evening. I immediately gravitate to the back, hoping to blend into the background. I mentally shoot Jane hate vibes, since she isn't required to put herself through hell. She just gets to stay upstairs in the comfort of the lab with Dr. Banner and Erik, wearing a nice suit and lab coat while I get to become a sweaty mess. I'm informed that Megatron and I will be spending the day with them, much to Erik's dismay. Poor Erik. He's a good guy. He follows rules. He's very "By the book". And what does he get? He gets zombie-fied. Apparently, magic forcing people to do your bidding can cause them to hold grudges. Who knew?

Looking around the room, which is really just a basement storage space converted, I observe my peers and feel a niggling sense of inferiority. These people have been recruited by Fury and his team because they are the best. I feel like Will Smith in _Men In Black, _looking around at Army heroes and Government agents and such. I'm not even a cop…I'm a college grad with no experience in anything remotely physical. At this point, I just hope the sport bra I'm wearing holds the girls down enough.

Someone tall with elbows plows into me a second later, making me turn my head, ready to snap an insult at them.

"S-sorry!" The guy stammers, looking embarrassed. The retort dies before it ever leaves my mouth and I take pity on the poor guy, who looks like he was dragged out of a Mathletes competition and brought down to training.

"Nah, it's cool," I assure him, giving him half a grin, "I have a couple screws loose anyway. You can't really do much damage at this point." He visibly relaxes, managing a hesitant smile and holding out his hand.

"I'm Jake. Jake Lange."

"Darcy Lewis." Shaking his hand, I give him an appraising look. "Look man, don't take this the wrong way, but how did you get sucked into this mess?"

"Oh," He chuckles, "You mean, S.H.I.E.L.D.? I'm actually an I.T. technician…but I guess even the computer nerds need to know basic defensive training." He shrugs. "You?"

"I'm the, uh…" I decide 'Supervillain Babysitter' is probably not something I should advertise, "Outside Communications Analyst."

"What does that even mean?" He laughs, making me shrug.

"It means, I know too much to be allowed to live on the outside," I explain dryly, "So, my job is basically sitting around, trying to get information out of people who might know things. It beats selling rubber bands." This draws a chuckle from him, and I note he's kind of cute, especially the ice blue eyes. Skinny, and a little angular. He could definitely stand to eat a couple burgers. I can't help but worry a strong blast of wind would take him out…poor bastard.

"Welcome, agents!" Steve's voice comes from the door as he steps in wearing his uniform and making me snicker again. He is flanked by two agents. One, a man who's probably in his early to mid-thirties, and the other, the blonde woman who took the two beefy doofs down at the Coke machine a couple days ago. "We are going to start basic training today, and I expect nothing but your best."

"What's the definition of our 'best'?" I mutter to Jake, using air quotes. He gives me an amused look, shifting his weight.

"As agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., you have accepted a duty to this organization and to the world. Your objective is simple...everything we do, we do for the greater good." Steve makes me smirk, because every word he says is full of talk about honor and duty. He truly believes that it is a privilege to be protecting the country and the world. I wish I could be that enthusiastic, but it's four in the morning and I have a strict 'I don't give a fuck' policy until at least nine.

We start with jumping jacks, which you would think would be easy, but oh no. Not the way they do them here. We then move on to push-ups and lunges, which are equally awful and I equally blow at. By the time we get to squat thrusts, I can't even find the strength to be embarrassed at my utter lack of stamina. I thought I was in decent shape. I sometimes enjoy a good Zumba class and even do Pilates once in a while. This shit is not that. This is like punishment.

By the time it's over three hours later, me and poor Jake are doubled over, trying (unsuccessfully) to breathe. He's even worse off than I am, sitting slumped against the wall with a bottle of water pressed to his forehead. I shoot Steve a dark look, which he responds to by giving me an apologetic grin.

"Good work Agent Eleven." Cap says, nodding at the guy, before turning to the other. "Thirteen."

"Captain," Thirteen nods, turning on her heel to leave. Steve watches, slightly disheartened as she strides out, not sparing another glance at him. I start toward him, wincing as the muscles in my legs protest.

"Darcy," Jake's voice comes from behind me, making me turn in surprise. He's holding a gold chain. "You dropped this." I groan, taking it from him.

"Damn clasp is broken. It falls off constantly," I tell him, glancing down at it, wondering why I keep the damn thing at all. It's just a reminder that my mother never came back for me. I pocket it, refusing to think about her. She doesn't deserve my energy. "Well, thanks…" I trail off awkwardly, "I'll see you tomorrow, I guess."

"Yeah," Jake agrees, standing on unsteady legs, while I start toward the door. "If I don't die," He adds, making me snicker in understanding. I wave goodbye and head out, hobbling toward the elevator like an eighty-five year old woman with arthritis. Steve is a few steps ahead of me, holding the door open so it doesn't close before I can get to it. He removes his mask and shakes his hair out of his eyes, nodding down at me with a small smile.

"You did well today, Lewis."

I snort in disbelief, "Yeah, _okay._ I'm pretty sure I looked like a dying antelope, but thanks."

"All things considered, I was impressed." Steve assures me kindly, "Despite being a little more inexperienced—"

"Understatement," I mutter under my breath.

"—I was very pleased with your determination. You never gave up, Darcy. That's an admirable trait." He pats me on the shoulder and I wince as my muscles protest. "You remind me of myself." I eye him skeptically, taking in the broad shoulders and protruding muscles, before flexing my own scrawny, essentially useless bicep and shaking my head.

"I don't think so, Cap," I gesture for him to look at himself and then me. This makes him smile, losing the earlier disappointment in his eyes as we reach my floor.

"I didn't start out this way," He reminds me, "Before I was given the serum, I was about the same height as you and weighed around one forty. I was shaped like a lollipop." He demonstrates my using his hands to imply a big head.

"Can't picture it," I chuckle, sighing and wincing as my abdominals ache. "Well, I'd better go upstairs and hose off. Nobody wants me stinking up the joint. See you at lunch!" I half heartedly salute him, and slink out of the elevator, staring forlornly down the long, long hall to my apartment.

Limping into my room, I force myself to lift my arm to open the door, and see Jane eating a bowl of cereal and reading _Popular Science._ She looks up when I come in and her eyebrows raise.

"What did they _do_ to you?" She asks, setting her magazine aside and putting her empty bowl in the sink. I jab a thumb in the direction of the other apartment, wherein sits the devil himself.

"I have to protect myself from _that_," I tell her, "So, _I'm_ the one being put through Hell, while you and Thor get to play hide the sausage." Her brows furrow in confusion, before her mouth falls open as she realizes what I meant.

"Oh, Darcy!" She groans, covering her face with her hands, "That's _disgusting."_

"Aw, come on," I chide, "It can't be _that_ bad…Thor's hot."

"I _mean…_hide the sausage…_really?"_

"Do you prefer 'Dance with no pants' or 'Beast with two backs'?" I offer, shuffling around the counter to open the pantry and pray it's stocked with something other than Grape Nuts. (Seriously, is Jane ninety? Has she never heard of Frosted Flakes, or, at the very least, Cheerios?) Thankfully, there is a box of Raisin Bran, which is acceptable. I weakly shake some into a bowl, opening the fridge for some milk. This is pathetic. If I'm this sore already, I don't even want to think about tomorrow or the next day. Maybe I can convince Tony to get me a motorized scooter or something, like in the grocery store. "Speaking of the God of Thunder," I say with a mouth full of Raisin Bran, "Where is his majesty?"

"He's across the hall, showering. Pepper called around and had some clothes sent for them on S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Aw, I'm really going to miss them flouncing around in their tights and capes," I muse thoughtfully, picking up the _Popular Science _issue and flipping absently through it. Jane makes a sound of amusement, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

"Darcy, were you midnight raiding the pantry last night?"

"No," I turn to glance at her holding the empty box of blueberry Pop Tarts with a confused expression on her face. "I'll give you one guess," I nod toward the other apartment, where the garbage disposal in question is currently bathing. "If you recall, the guy could probably eat an entire side of beef by himself."

"True," Jane agrees reluctantly, before turning her brown eyes on me, "And for the record, Thor and I did not play _hide the sausage."_ I choke on my cereal, laughing in surprise at the sheer absurdity of those words coming out of the great Dr. Foster's proper mouth.

"Really," I respond dryly, blinking at her, "What was with the breaking noises? Thor rifling through your drawer for condoms?" I take another bite. "The shirtless…ness?" Her face turns a frightening shade of red. "Aw, come on, Jane…you're a little more reserved than I usually am, but I know you're not prude. You were pretty much salivating over Thor right there with me the entire time in Puente Antigua. It's okay, I'd tap it, too!"

"_Darcy!"_ Jane hisses, though she sounds a little bit more like she's laughing now as she covers her face. Through gritted teeth, she confesses, "It wasn't me…it was him…"

"What?" I stare incredulously at her. "You mean he has," I lower my voice, "_performance issues?"_

"No!" She insists, putting her hands up defensively, "Trust me, it was not…_that…_he just started blurting all of this stuff about honor and he said something about taking my innocence. I assured him that ship had sailed about a decade ago, but he said no."

"So, he's gay," I insert, finishing my food and groaning loudly as I get up to take it to the sink.

"He's _not_ gay!" The determination in her voice, makes me laugh out loud.

"Relax," I roll my eyes, "I'm joking, Killer. I forgot how intense you get when I mess with you," I shoot her an affectionate look, "Look, if Thor didn't want to – take your innocence – I'd say that's probably a good sign. You know, it means he respects you. You could always prance around in naughty lingerie and show him what he's missing."

"Oh, yeah," Jane scoffs, snorting as she makes herself another cup of coffee, talking over the whirr of the Keurig, "I'm sure Loki would love that. Me strutting around their apartment in a babydoll nightie."

"He probably wouldn't even notice," I quip, shaking my head. "He'd be too busy playing Facebook games on _my_ iPad…which he still has…which I bought with _my_ own college graduation money." I'm still in mourning over the loss of my iPod which is still in custody of S.H.I.E.L.D. somewhere, I'll be damned if Severus Snape is stealing the iPad. I start a very slow trudge toward the bathroom, ignoring Jane's snicker behind me.

I feel significantly better after my shower, and I can even sort of move my legs again, though the arms are still pretty useless. Tomorrow will be worse. Today's training was three hours of strength training. Tomorrow is going to be six; three hours of strength training and three hours of self defense. _Six hours._ I cringe at the thought, putting on my necklace and dressing in a pair of black dress pants and a white blouse.

I hate the word "blouse". It always makes me think of old ladies with shoulder pads and droopy boobs.

I glance at the clock, frowning as I realize work starts in about fifteen minutes. One nice thing about living in the building I work in is I don't have to deal with traffic. I have a slight road rage issue, which I'm sure would be a bad thing in New York. I opt for a pair of sensible flats in lieu of heels. The thought makes me physically ill. I throw on a blazer and head out into the living room, where I hear voices.

"...just wish I could have gotten through to my father," Thor is telling Jane in a low voice. "I know my brother has done wrong, but I also know there is good inside him."

"You're probably the only one who actually believes that," Jane tells him gently, patting his arm, though it's quite blaringly obvious she does not agree with him. "I just…I don't trust him, Thor. I'm sorry."

"You need not apologize, Jane," Thor sighs grimly, "Loki has done nothing to earn your trust. You don't know him as I do. But I have faith that he is not lost to me forever." They share a meaningful look, before noticing I've come into the room. "Darcy, good morn."

"Right back at ya, Big Guy," I return, giving him a thumbs up. "Where _is_ the Prince of Darkness?"

"He is breaking his fast across the hall," Thor nods toward the open door. I smirk a little to myself at the wording, deciding I'd better get over there and see if my friend, the donut whore, is ready to head upstairs. I can't decide whether I'm more surprised to see Thor's bro wearing "Earth clothes" or the fact that he's watching _Friends._ His eyes slide over to give me a withering look, before turning back to the screen.

"So much for drivel," I mutter, watching him calmly use the remote to turn off the D.V.D. player and rise off of the couch. "Nice duds. You could almost pass for human," I inform him. He does not look at me, brushing past.

"Must you plague me with your incessant chatter?" He snaps, tensing at the sight of Thor and Jane in the hall waiting for us. My eyes fall, just for a second, noticing how perfectly tailored the new clothes are. I look away, immediately, mildly horrified for even finding it appealing as I remind myself that the person before me is a dangerous criminal and not even remotely appealing. In fact, if I were to be blunt (and I always am), he repulses me.

"If you must plague me with your incessant presence," I answer, feigning a sugary tone and glaring at the back of his dumb, ebony haired head.

"Loki, be kind," Thor scolds commandingly.

"As you wish," Comes the response, as he stops and gestures for me to step ahead of him. I eye him warily, walking forward, watching his face closely. Big mistake. Because I'm watching his face, I don't see his foot shoot out in front of me, so I stumble, feeling my sore muscles strain as I try to catch my balance. It's Thor who catches me, carefully pulling me up and setting me to rights as I whirl around to glare up into He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's smug, arrogant face.

"It is _so _on, bitch," I growl, jabbing a finger into his chest and stalking away, trying not to show that every muscle in my body feels like it's dying a slow, agonizing death.

The remainder of the morning is spent in the lab, with me plotting my attack on Prince _Loser_ as I surf the net on my phone and shooting him death looks. I envision ways in which to make his life Hell on Earth. I fantasize about throttling him. But, even as I silently plan his demise, I notice that his disposition has changed slightly. He's not brooding quite as much as he was yesterday. He notices me looking at him, and I see the corner of his mouth twitch dangerously upward with the ghost of a smirk. I adopt what I hope is a 'I'll kill you' glower and turn my eyes back to my phone, scrolling a little more intensely than necessary. I'm torn between two possible revenge schemes when I realize Jane is saying my name.

"_Darcy!" _

"What? Geez, Jane! I'm right here," I yelp, touching my ear and praying the ear drum is still intact.

"I've been trying to get your attention for like three minutes!" She huffs, sighing. I give her an expectant look, gesturing for her to tell me what she wants. She pouts her lower lip and gives me a pleading expression.

"Aw, crap…" I groan knowingly, glancing at Erik. He shrugs, looking amused. "What do you want?" She produces a pile of papers with notes scrawled all over them. "_Jane…"_

"Please, Darcy? Can you just type out the notes for me so I can see what I have? I would, but Erik and I are working on some equations, and I haven't had any time…"

"Hey, _my_ job is babysitting _him—"_ I nod murderously at my nemesis.

"I know. But you're both in here, and I was hoping…I mean, you were always so good at organizing my..."

"Chaos?" I offer, laughing and grabbing the messy notes out of her hand. _"Fine._ But you owe me! I mean it, Jane…I want red wine…the good kind that costs more than six bucks at CVS."

"Deal," Jane agrees, nodding enthusiastically. It feels like old times for a second, except instead of huddling in a crappy trailer with nothing but a weak low watt light and Jane's ancient laptop to use, I'm put in front of a state of the art widescreen computer. It definitely makes my life easier, since my eyes are bad on a good day, contacts or no.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Megatron get up and wander over to the middle, where the 3D model of the Einstein Rosen Bridge that Jane and Erik are working on with Dr. Banner and look at it closely. Jane and Erik are bouncing numbers back and forth at a dry erase board, but Bruce is watching Loki closely, obviously wondering if he needs to turn to 'the other guy' for help. Remembering the fear in the supervillain's eyes at the sight of Dr. Banner, I'm confident he won't pull anything, but I have to wonder what transpired between the two of them in that battle and I wonder for a moment how I can bribe it out of Bruce. We both watch as Thor's brother reaches out to the model wormhole with both hands as if taking a measurement and then turning his eyes skyward, ponderously.

"What is it, Brother?" Thor asks, moving to his side.

"As always, you forget I am not your brother," The other snips venomously. "'Twas nothing." I feel a tug at my heart as Thor turns away, slightly crestfallen. I give him a sympathetic look, which he waves off with a smile. I make a mental note to dedicate my first move to Thor, who has done nothing but stick up for the butthole of a sibling he was stuck with. It reminds me of Aunt Kate with my mother. Before Jodie left me on their front porch at three A.M. when I was eleven, she used to always secretly send us money and clothes for me. She told me once that she believed there was still good in Jodie, but she was broken inside. She forgot who she was. But people don't just fix themselves. They have to find it in themselves and want to change. Some of us are born with strength, and we can fight our demons…but some people need help. Sometimes, what they need is someone to fight for them. I was too young to help Jodie, but maybe it's not too late for Thor and Loki. I mean, they _are _immortal.

I turn back to Jane's illegible weaving of crazy and continue typing her notes as best I can while discreetly keeping watch on our friend, the psycho. He's somehow found a legal pad and is scrawling furious notes on it, probably writing out the ways he wants to murder us all…doodling pictures of himself holding the giant Death Stick. The possibilities are endless.

The next time I look at the clock, it's time for lunch. I sigh, pulling away from the computer and cracking my knuckles. "Hey, Big Bang Theory," I call out, "You hungry?" He doesn't look up. I sigh, rising and pocketing my phone. "I'll take that as a no."

"I am famished," Thor chimes in enthusiastically, "I shall accompany you to the dining hall. Jane?" She shakes her head, lost in another super genius moment. Meeting Thor's eyes, we nod at each other, obviously having the same idea. We get food and force feed them. Dibs on Jane, though. I'm not touching Option 2.

I feel like a freaking dwarf next to Big Guy as we walk into the cafeteria a couple of floors up. I have to appreciate the speed with which S.H.I.E.L.D. (and probably Pepper Potts) acquired vending machines, tables and a full, working kitchen. It reminds me of school...like Hogwarts with awesome technology.

"Darcy," Thor thunders happily, making at least ten people turn to look at us, "They have nuggets of chicken! How clever!"

"Wait 'til you try the treats of Rice Krispie," I comment dryly.

"Who is this Rice Krispie and what is so appealing about his treats?" He asked, bemused. I chuckle, patting his back and following him to the line, where we both fill up our trays with more food than two people should eat, although judging by our time spent together in New Mexico, I have a sneaking suspicion that he's going to consume most of that and possibly some of the rest. Steve appears, joining us in line.

"Miss Lewis," He acknowledges, winking at me as I roll my eyes.

"Captain Rogers," I concede as Thor turns around, looking as excited as a girl in junior high on her first day back from summer vacation upon seeing her best friend at lunch. I step around them, giving the ladies their privacy. I think they're forgetting that it's still been about four days since they saved the world from the wacko downstairs.

"…and that's how the points are scored?" Thor asks Steve, sounding absolutely enthralled, "One must touch the ball down in the designated end zone?"

"Well, that's the way to score the most points," Steve tells him, eyeing a bowl of green bean casserole strangely, sniffing it before setting it on his plate. "You get six points for a touchdown. Once you get that, you get a chance to score one more point with a conversion…"

"And you played this sport?" Thor replies, clearly impressed. Steve shakes his head sheepishly, glancing over at me as I quickly slip over to the vending machines to purchase drinks.

"I always wanted to, but before all of this…" He gestures to his body, "I wasn't in any shape to play. I had a host of health problems and I was very slight." He demonstrates by showing his former height with his hand. "After I lost that dream, I made it my life's mission to serve my country."

"Admirable," Thor nods approvingly as I return with the drinks and we all make our way away from the line. "We must talk more about this sport," He tells Steve, "This ball of foot…it sounds fascinating."

"You'd be great at it," Steve agrees, meeting my eyes and hiding a grin. I can only shake my head.

"Wish we could stay," I lament, looking toward the elevator, "But he has a psychopath to feed and I have to force feed Jane."

"You will feed Jane?" Thor asks, brows furrowing. "Is she incapable of feeding herself?"

"Physically, no," I explain, "The woman is brilliant. Like freaky Einstein brilliant, you know? But here's the thing, she sometimes gets her priorities mixed up. A.K.A., she forgets to eat. That's where we," I motion between us, "come in. And, can I be blunt?"

"By all means," Thor nods encouragingly.

"Your brother could stand to eat a couple dozen chicken nuggets. I mean, he kind of looks like a strong wind could knock him over. He's a little on the scrawny side…ya dig?"

He does not dig. I'm pretty sure he has no comprehension of what I'm saying.

"Loki is of the Aesir," Thor murmurs, befuddled, "I can assure you that he is quite sturdy, and—"

"I'm just saying, he could gain a few."

"It is kind of you to worry for Loki's well-being. You will be a good friend to him, Darcy," Thor tells me fondly, grinning as the elevator opens and I begin to stutter in protest.

"No, no…I'm not his friend. He's just, kind of my job..."

"Of course, Darcy," Thor smiles that maddening winsome smile of his as we step into the elevator. "I understand."

Once back in the lab, my muscles fail me and Thor reaches Jane first, leaving me with Hannibal Lecter. I steel myself, plodding over to where his lanky form is perched on an office chair. He's still hunched over his notes with black hair falling into his face, though I can see some of his neat handwriting, along with a sketch of something that looks straight out of a Sci-fi movie. Silently, I set the food beside him, along with a can of Mountain Dew and a pack of powdered donuts. His head lifts and he looks over his shoulder at me, before turning his attention to the chicken nuggets, taking one between his thumb and forefinger to examine it.

"Yeah, I poisoned it," I roll my eyes. "Because _that_ would end well for me."

"You _did_ swear revenge on me for tripping you, did you not?" He replies, setting the notes aside and taking a small bite of the chicken nugget. "Besides," he adds, "Poison will not work on me. I am immortal. It would only hinder me briefly."

"I thought you were all mortal and junk now," I grab a nearby chair and pull it up to the counter beside his.

He holds up his left wrist, the one with the magic stopping cuff. "This prevents me from projecting magic beyond my own body, but it did not remove the magic from my veins." His eyes lower momentarily, staring at his small, leather shackle, "The perfect punishment for my sins, according to the All-Father, is living every moment knowing that I have magic and cannot use it. It is a means for me to learn restraint," He smiles cynically, "so he says."

I really try not to, but I feel a twinge of sympathy for the poor nut and push it immediately away, reminding myself that all I need to do is look out the window to remind myself of what he's capable of…

…and that I have a prank to plan.


	5. The First Move

How do you prank the God of Mischief? I mean, there's the obvious go-to choices…Saran Wrap on the toilet?

Been there.

Toothpaste Oreos…

I'm better than this.

Fart Machine?

Do Gods even fart?

These are the things that Darcy Lewis thinks while lying in bed. It's kind of a relief after the horror of my senior year of college and not sleeping for months. Not to mention the six month internship babysitting Jane. I feel like I should have a shirt that says, _'I Survived Jane Foster & All I Got Was Six Lousy Credits.' _

I suppose I could sneak into his bedroom in the wee hours of the night and draw a penis on his face, but that is so lame. Plus, with my luck, he sleeps about as well as I do and he'd snap my neck with his bare hands.

I decide it's better to start small.

I slip out of the apartment, peeking in on Jane, who is completely out, sprawled across the bed. I feel sorry for poor Thor if he ever does decide to share a bed with her on a nightly basis. There were a few times back in Puente Antingua when we had to share a room, and not only is she a bed hog, she wraps herself in the covers like a burrito, leaving you hanging off the bed and shivering.

If I was sore yesterday, today is three times worse, so the journey down to training is both painful and long, but it's somehow a little more bearable knowing I have sweet, sweet revenge to look forward to later. I'm planning my angle of attack when I turn the corner into the training room and run into a giant wall of Thor, dressed in a S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform.

"Darcy!" He exclaims, brightening at the sight of me. "Good Morning!"

"Mmmpf," I mumble, patting his arm. I would have never really taken the big guy for a morning person, but he's about as energetic as he is after sunrise. I envy him. It's usually noon before my eyes can even focus without the aid of something filled with caffeine. "What's up?" I ask, pulling out my bottle of water and cringing as my muscles tense with the weight of it.

"Captain Rogers has asked me to assist with training," He explains. There's a slight tone of excitement in his voice, making me smile a little. I get it. The past few days have been kind of rough on Thor. He's out of his element again. The action is over, so he's just been kind of twiddling his thumbs waiting for something to do. And then of course, he gets to go home to the worst houseguest ever at the end of the day. I'd jump at the chance to boss us weaklings around too. Plus, if I had to pick someone to teach me how to be a badass, it would definitely be Thor.

"Oh, cool…do you think you could take it easy on me?" I ask, giving him a hopeful smile. He grins, ruffling my hair.

"Of course not, little sister," He claps a hand on my back, nearly knocking the breath out of me. "I would not be doing you any favors by not challenging you."

I adopt my best 'helpless' voice. "But I'm just a mere mortal..."

"Which is why you must learn to protect yourself, Darcy," He responds seriously, "I was trained by my father, and I helped to train my closest friends, who are considered the greatest warriors of Asgard. It is of great importance."

"If you say so," I sigh, "Fair warning, I'm kind of a lost cause."

"Nonsense," Thor scoffs, "You have the heart of a warrior."

I have to laugh at this, shrugging. "If you say so." I wave at Jake, who limps through the door looking worse than I do.

"You look as crappy as I feel," I tell him when he finally makes it across the room to me. He only winces in response, managing a shrug.

"I keep thinking of the bigger picture," He replies, "If I come out of this with half as many muscles as him—" He nods at Steve, who's speaking with some of the other trainees, "—then I'll consider it a success."

"Muscles are overrated," I tell him, "I happen to be fine with being a weakling with skinny arms."

"Yeah, but you have other attractive traits," Jake chuckles.

"You're talking about these, aren't you?" I asked, folding my arms beneath my breasts and raising an accusing eyebrow at him. His face turns a shocking shade of pink.

"Oh, n-no…that wasn't what I…I just meant—"

"It's fine," I assure him, "If Mom gave me nothing else, at least she gave me a good rack."

"I j-just meant that you're pretty," He stammers. "I swear I wasn't talking about…that…" He finishes, but I notices his eyes slip downward for the smallest of seconds, before his ears turn red and he turns away from me. I almost feel bad for messing with him, but it was too easy.

"Jake," I call after him, taking pity, "I was just kidding. I really don't see you as the kind of guy who leers at a girl's chest." He visibly relaxes as some of the color returns to his face.

"Alright!" Steve says, getting everyone's attention. "We're going to get started, here. Today, we're going to have a little help from Thor. I'm sure you all know who he is." He and Thor nod at each other, ready for business. I notice Agent Thirteen off to the side, blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun out of her face. "Our first order of business is self-defense. You have to be able to defend yourself before you can attack." He nods at Thirteen, motioning for her to help him demonstrate. "We're going to do a simple choking defense move." She gives him a wary look, assessing him with her eyes as she lowers to the ground and we gather around to watch. Cap lowers himself over her, straddling her middle.

"I apologize, Ma'am," He says in advance, making me smirk. Thirteen rolls her eyes.

"Don't patronize me, Rogers."

"I would never," Steve insists, turning his attention toward us. "Now, if someone manages to trap you on the ground and get their hands on your neck, that seems like a pretty impossible situation to get out of, doesn't it?" A few people nod or murmur in response. I prefer to skeptically watch, giving Thor a wilting glance. "If this happens to you, the first thing you need to try to do is bring your arms up over your face and lash out at your attacker…distract them from their goal. Always protect your head."

"It is absolutely imperative to keep a cool head, even in the direst of moments," Thor adds, nodding his approval at Steve.

"Exactly," He agrees, "Your next move is to lock your attacker in place. Agent Thirteen will use her strongest leg to trap one of my feet against my body." Thirteen's right leg moves and crosses over his leg, pulling it closer to her.

"Make sure you lock it down with your heel," She tells us, exaggerating the move with her own. "Bring your arms in between and lock your hands on the forearm, pulling down their weight." She pulls Steve down so they're nearly nose to nose. I notice the subtle pink flags in his cheeks. "Then, you lift your opposite hip and turn, flipping the attacker over and putting _you_ in control." Her eyes flash, "Aim for the groin, ladies." They start over, doing the whole exercise and I watch as Agent Thirteen, slim blonde of maybe a hundred and twenty pounds, flips Captain America on his back like he's the size of a pre-schooler. I debate bowing down to her badassery, but I contain myself, as we're instructed to partner off. I turn to ask Jake, but I've apparently scared him off, because he's across the room with another girl, a redhead.

"Partner?" I turn and slowly look up…and up…and up…into Thor's smiling blue eyes. The thought of being trapped under all that (in a non-hot way) is probably the equivalent of being trapped under a bus or at the very least, a Smart Car.

I stare at him blankly. "You're joking, right?"

"Of course not," He chuckles, "Come, you'll do fine."

"Why doesn't Jane have to do this?" I grumble, reluctantly lowering myself to the floor and watching as Thor carefully kneels, settling over me. I silently thank the Gods of Fashion that he's not wearing all that metal armor.

"Jane is needed elsewhere," Thor answers, guiding my arms up over my face. "Focus, Darcy. Wrap your foot over mine, remember?"

"You do realize you weigh like twice as much as I do?" I remind him dryly, grunting as I try to lift my leg over his. "I can't reach…"

"You must find the will within yourself," He urges, mimicking hitting me in the face.

"Easier _said—"_ I growl, throwing a hit at his jaw, "—than done!"

"Go on," He encourages, "get angry! Perhaps draw strength from something that happened to you in the past. Perhaps a row with a parent or an altercation with a peer."

"Or not," I wheeze, squeezing my eyes closed as I try not to remember the childhood I've worked so hard to forget. Feeling helpless as I barricaded myself into whatever bedroom I was sleeping in for fear of one of Jodie's various suitors stumbling into my room by mistake. Standing shock still when Jodie's boyfriend of the week popped me across the face for my smart mouth and watching her do absolutely nothing except tell me I brought it on myself.

"Darcy, listen to me," Thor's voice is keeping me from falling into the abyss of my dark past, "Whatever it is that you're feeling…_use_ it. You are not helpless. You're strong. You are a warrior of Midgard." Squeezing my eyes shut, I use every ounce of strength I still possess and lift my foot, using my hands to pull on his forearms as I plant my heel on the ground. With a loud groan, I lift and turn my hips, throwing his hulking form off of me and onto his back. I tumble backward from the force off it, trembling with adrenaline and surprise as he grins widely at me. "You see?" He cries, sitting up. "You _can."_

"Good _God_, you're huge!" I gasp, shaking my head.

"Again," He commands, gesturing for me to get back down on my back.

"My _ass!" _

"Let's see it, Lewis," Steve says, approaching us. I stare at the floor, wondering how I'm going to repeat throwing Thor off of me.

It's actually easier the second time as I use my right hip to create some extra momentum when I trap his foot with mine, absorbing his weight as it comes back down and throwing him to the side. I spring up, rearing back to deliver a potential blow to his groin.

Steve nods, sharing a pleased look with Thor. "Good work."

* * *

I take my opportunity at noon after training, to sneak out and set my plan in motion under the guise of a shower as I head out into the rubble filled streets and walk a couple of blocks to the nearest drug store. My plan is simple, but it will make a statement, I think. The clerk gives me a strange look as I drop three items on the counter, daring her to judge me as she pops her gum with all of the subtlety of a bull in a china shop.

After a quick check into the science lab, I make sure the eagle is out of the nest as I head toward the elevator.

"Beer run?" A voice startles me as the elevator opens, revealing Tony Stark wearing a stylish suit and sunglasses. I snort.

"Sunglasses inside? Who do you think you are, one of the Men In Black ?"

"I like to think I'm a _little_ cooler than M.I.B.," He counters quickly, "Like if James Bond and Jason Bourne had a baby…it would be me. Plus, I'm better looking than all of them."

"Modest too," I agree, laughing as we switch spots. "I'm just, uh…stocking up," I add, brandishing my clearly visible feminine hygiene products – a strategically placed distraction from the other stuff. He winces, nodding knowingly.

"Ah, enough said. My sympathies for your gender."

"Thanks!"

"Well, I'll see you around, Kid," He adds, removing his sunglasses.

"Later, M.I.B.," I quip as the elevator closes, patting my trusty old pack of tampons. The easiest way to shut a man up is to scare him with the monster known as menstruation.

I quickly retrieve our key for the other apartment and head over, double checking that it's empty before I go inside. From the bag, I withdraw a roll of duct tape and an air horn, the crowning glory of my plan. Grinning in triumph, I sneak into the bedroom that _doesn't_ look like a tornado blew through it. Thor is awesome. He's a big badass who was born to lead, but it's kind of clear the guy has never picked up after himself in his life. Little Brother on the other hand is, well…meticulous. There's not a wrinkle in his bed. If I didn't know any better, I'd never have known that someone is actually occupying the room.

Ten minutes later, it's done and I'm standing back, admiring my handiwork. Even though it's somewhat mild, I have the advantage of the unknown…Earth being _my_ turf and all. I fake a (horrible) maniacal laugh, leaving the apartment and hitting the shower.

I pull my hair back into a low bun, borrowing a pant suit from Jane as I've reached the limit of my so-called business wardrobe. (Mental note: find a department store that hasn't been destroyed.) I return to work with a spring in my step; ignoring the muscles I strained hauling Thor off of me and scan my I.D. for entrance into the lab only to find Erik, Jane and Dr. Banner arguing while Loki sits idly by, twirling a pen in his long fingers. He looks dangerously like he'd enjoy impaling one of the scientists with it.

"Geez, what happened? It looks like an episode of Jerry Springer in here," I comment dryly, sauntering over and lowering myself carefully into the desk chair. Green eyes slant sideways at me.

"Come again?"

"Never mind," I sigh, "What's the problem? Why is everyone snapping at each other like rabid dogs?"

"Oh," He rolls his eyes, "That. Thor's paramour has decided that my professional opinion has little to no value and would rather bumble about like a fool than accept assistance from me."

"She has a point," I remind him, raising an eyebrow and eyeing the messy pile of notes on the desk, along with probably an entire pad of crumpled Post-Its. That's kind of Jane's thing now, scribbling things down on a Post-It when they come to her and sticking them all over everything. The lab is starting to look like an Easter parade float, covered in nauseating pastel pink and yellow. She claims she buys the pink and yellow ones because they come in bulk. I make a mental note to pick up a pack of the fluorescent green ones and maybe some blue. My poor eyes can't handle the baby shower color scheme explosion.

"…you really think we can trust him?" Jane is railing at Erik, while Bruce looks nervously between the two of them. "It hasn't even been a week since the whole, you know, _world domination_ debacle?"

"Of course we can't trust him," Erik sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. "But he's all we've got. He understands these things better than us."

"We'll just ask Thor," Jane says snippily. I throw a glance at Loki, who looks more amused than irritated now.

"It will do you no good," Loki informs her, "Thor's knowledge of portals and realm travel is not strong enough. Thor's strength lies in action and strategy while mine lies in logic and what you call science."

"So, he's Kirk and you're Spock?" I offer, earning a glare from Jane. "What?" I shrug and she returns glower to Erik while Bruce tiredly backs away, fiddling with a piece of equipment.

"I really think if we reverse the calculations, we could find—"

"It won't work," Loki murmurs, drawing everyone's attention. "Your refusal to look beyond your physics is your downfall, mortal."

"Physics encompasses the universe and everything in it!" Jane retorts indignantly.

"And yet, Midgard is practically one of the only realms left that hasn't developed functional interstellar travel and communication," His eyebrows rise suggestively, "Am I wrong?" I drag myself out of my chair, inching toward the door. "I'm thirsty…does anyone want—"

"_No,"_ Jane hisses, "Well, I'm sorry, but we _mortals_ don't have magic here."

"Magic is only energy that one learns to harness," He counters patronizingly, "Even here." I notice the vein in the middle of Jane's forehead start to bulge a little, so I take that as my cue. I hobble over to Little Orphan Angry and grab the sleeve of his flannel shirt (which looks absolutely absurd on him).

"Come on," I groan knowingly, sensing Hurricane Jane in the near future, "I'll buy you some donuts."

Is this what I'm reduced to? Dragging Thor's brother around like a badly behaved Chihuahua and bribing him with treats? I'd feel guilty, but the guy could stand to gain a few pounds. He looks like he hasn't had a real meal in months.

"That woman is ridiculously obdurate," He grumbles once we're out of hearing distance. I keep my grip on his sleeve, even though I know damn well that if he wanted to, he could probably flick me off of him like a fly or possibly snap my neck with one hand. Skinny or not, these Asgardian guys have freaky strength. My fingers twitch, reaching for my purse, where my beloved Taser is waiting…just in case.

Or I can pull the flip and switch that I learned this morning, but I don't think he's going to wrestle me to the ground. It's not really his style.

"Jane's stubborn, I'll give you that," I concede as we reach the elevator. "But, she's a brilliant scientist. She has a hard time admitting when she's wrong." I give him a fervent look, "And, honestly, you can't really blame her for having reservations. After that crap you pulled last week…you don't exactly give off friendly vibes."

"Vibes?"

We step into the elevator.

"Feelings, I guess," I answer, pressing the button for the next floor up. "I mean, even half of the agents in this place still back away whenever they see you."

"And yet, you aren't afraid of me at all," He muses sardonically, glancing at my hand gripping his sleeve.

"Don't flatter yourself, Megatron. I'm using you as a human crutch," I reply, "Your Titanic sized brother spent the morning smacking me around, so I'm feeling a little rough."

His eyes sparkle green, full of confusion as he frowns. "Thor?"

"You have another brother?" I laugh.

"Thor and I were raised together, but there are other sons of Odin, yes," He admits in a clipped tone. I shake my head.

"I was kidding. I mean, obviously I was talking about Thor." The door to the elevator opens. "We need to work on your people skills, dude."

A group of people are waiting for the elevator, so when the door opens, they begin to filter in, eyeing us warily as if they expect Loki to go on some kind of a rampage. He doesn't even spare them a second glance, stalking past them as if they don't exist. I have to wonder how it feels to be the most hated person on the planet.

Then I realize, Loki really _doesn't_ care. He feels he's above these people, who are little more to him than insignificant nothings. He's a God. Immortal. Invincible. While we're short lived weaklings, possibly the youngest race in the universe. The opinions of ants mean nothing to a human. The opinions of humans mean nothing to a God. For a moment, I feel very small.

I immediately let go of his sleeve, putting a distance of roughly two feet between us. I pull out a couple of dollars, handing one over to him, which he stares at. "What is this?"

"Money," I groan, realizing he has no idea how to work a vending machine. "Watch and learn, O' Villainous One." I demonstrate how to insert the bill and press the button for which can of soda I want. "Not bad for a species that hasn't accomplished interstellar travel, huh?" His brows furrow uncertainly as he repeats exactly what I did. Much as he tries to hide it, he doesn't quite mask his slight smile as his Mountain Dew falls into the retrieval slot. It's kind of like watching a baby discover his toes for the first time.

We take our donuts and caffeine to a corner and sit across from each other, silently opening our snacks.

"So," I start, chewing thoughtfully as I ponder what I'm going to say, "why _haven't _you pulled anything? I mean, a week ago you were all gung-ho about taking us down. Now, you're the equivalent of an Emo teen. I don't buy it."

"As with everything, the answer is simple," He responds, "I'm not the threat anymore. There are forces even beyond me in the universe."

"Why did Odin send you back so quick?" I blurt, tilting my head at him. "Really?"

"He did not give a reason. Only that I was to be punished by living as mortals do." His eyes grow cold as he stares down at his cuffed arm. "He said that when I understood humanity, I would be permitted to return." Looking up, I blanch at the harsh grimace on his face. "I have no desire to return to Asgard."

He's lying. I can tell, because when he says the last bit, the corners of his mouth quirk downward just fast enough to glimpse and his nostrils flare momentarily. He misses his home.

"For the record," I break the quiet, "I've been human all my life and I'm still trying to understand humanity."

"All your life…" He trails off. "Twenty-four years. Barely a breath in the scheme of time."

"Well, we can't all be Gods like _some_ people," I remind him, noticing someone walking toward us out of the corner of my eye. I grin instantly at poor Jake, who is limping weakly. His eyes fall on Loki, smile leaving his face temporarily. Loki answers with a murderous look. (He's a real gem, that one.)

"Holding up okay, Lange?"

"I have to say, I've never been so grateful for a desk job in my life," He confesses, grinning at me and pushing his glasses up.

I frown, noticing something is off with his eyes. "Um, don't take this the wrong way, Jake…but do we need to have the 'drugs are bad' talk?"

"Huh?" His dark hair falls into his eyes for a moment.

"Your eyes…they're a little red."

"Oh, I…" He turns away for a second. "Allergies." I bite back a laugh. Figures. What's a tall, scrawny I.T. nerd without a little sinus issue? "Anyway," He glances nervously at my sullen companion, "I was, uh…just wondering if…y'know if you weren't doing anything Friday night—"

"You're asking me out?" I ask incredulously, both flattered and amused. I could do worse than Jake Lange.

"Well, I…" He looks at the floor. "Yeah."

"Sure, why not?" I surprise him by saying. He looks up hopefully, a small smile on his face as he relaxes.

"Oh…well, great!" He nods, "I'll um…I'll see you at training in the morning then." He eyes Loki once more, before leaving us. I notice Sunshine Bear is not amused.

"What?" I ask testily.

"Out of all of the mortals available to you, you choose _him?_" He snorts, smirking at me.

"I didn't _choose_ him," I snap back, "I'm going on a _date _with him. I never said it was going to end in marriage or babies."

"True." He bites into a donut. "Still, I should think you would prefer someone a bit more…" He doesn't finish this sentence; he just waves his hand as if that's ample explanation.

"A bit more what?" I fire, signaling for him to go on."A bit more…?"

"Sturdy." His voice is snide. "Don't all women value strength more than intellect?"

"Is this about you and Thor?" I bite, staring daggers at him. "Some girl break your heart in favor of the big guy?"

"On Asgard, strength and size are a measure of importance," He utters, looking hopelessly young for a second.

"Yeah, well…here size doesn't matter," I sigh, "Well, mostly…" At his look of confusion, I continue. "Never mind. But, you're no slouch. I mean, you have this slightly Manorexic thing going on, but if you put on a few, you'd be good to go!" I point at his empty donut wrapper. "Just keep eating these." I notice the dab of powdered sugar at the corner of his mouth. I point to mine, to alert him, but he only stares blankly. "You've got, um…"

Resignedly, I exhale and lean across the table, carefully reaching out. His eyes narrow on me, ready to defend himself against whatever attack I may wage against him. Gently, I use the pad of my thumb to wipe the corner of his mouth and brush the sugar away. He grabs my wrist lightning fast, sending a literal jolt of energy through me thanks to the magic coursing through his veins. I twitch as if shocked by electricity, but it subsides a second later and he releases my hand. I stare at my wrist, trying not to show that I'm terrified.

"I…apologize," He eventually mutters, "Your assault caught me unprepared."

"_Assault?"_ I cry, "I wiped your mouth with my thumb. I didn't try to kill you."

"How was I to know your intentions?" He argues.

"Because, here on Earth, we don't try to kill each other every five seconds," I grumble acidly.

We spend the rest of the afternoon in the lab, Loki returning to his copious notes, and me attempting to translate Jane's notes into coherent thoughts. By the end of the day, Thor meets us in the lab. It's obvious he notices the tension between everyone, but I find myself impressed with how quickly he manages to soothe Jane. Within moments, she softens, allowing him to pull her into his arms.

On the way down to the apartments, I keep my distance behind the three of them, hobbling through my soreness. Thor quietly pleads with Loki to be kind to Jane, who he refers to as his 'Lady Love'. It's kind of cute in a really nauseating way.

We all part ways, separating into our two apartments and agreeing to reconvene for dinner. I've just removed my shoes and head toward my bedroom when a loud sound from across the hall makes Jane give a startled shriek, dropping something in the kitchen.

I pause, a slow smile spreading over my face as I bask in the glow of my victory.


	6. Keep Your Enemies Closer

Judging by Jane's reaction to my little surprise for Loki, you'd think I pranked _her,_ because she gets very huffy about it, muttering things about "immaturity" and "idiotic schemes" under her breath. Naturally, I ignore this, because maturity is for the weak and wimpy. To quote the wise Sweet Brown: "Ain't nobody got time for dat."

This is _war,_ people.

Granted, I've most likely put myself at the top of Loki's 'People To Kill Once I Get My Voodoo Back' list, but I feel pretty darn good about myself as I sit at the table, smugly chewing on the withered, overcooked chicken Jane's made for dinner. Now I remember why I did the cooking. Jane's eyes flit nervously between me and Loki, who is sitting across from me and ignoring my existence. Beside him, Thor is watching Jane, clearly unsure of how to turn that frown upside down.

"So," Thor says, clearing his throat and glancing over at his brother, "This poultry is delicious, my Lady." He brandishes a piece of burnt chicken, giving her a brilliant smile. Unmoved, she turns her fury on me.

"I cannot _believe_ you duct taped an air horn to the wall behind Loki's bedroom door," she hisses at me, stabbing her own leathery chicken breast.

"He started it!" I snap back, nodding at El Diablo, who glances up from his barely touched food in surprise. "When he tripped me!"

"Oh, so that's a good reason to start a prank war!" Jane scoffs, rolling her eyes, "What next, is he going to chase you around the playground and pull your hair?"

I feign excitement, clapping my hands. "There's a _playground_ here?"

"Darcy…" Her voice is full of warning.

"Jane," Thor cuts in, attempting to mediate, "It's all in good fun, I'm sure."

"Oh, it was definitely fun," I agree, sneaking a glance at my silent foe, who is calmly sawing through his chicken with a serrated knife. I notice his lips twitch slightly, ghosting a smirk for the smallest of moments.

"So long as you realize, that in making your move, you will have to endure the repercussions from your actions," Loki says in a low, frighteningly serene voice, "I always pay my debts, Darcy Lewis."

"Bring. It. _On…"_ I challenge, to which Jane grabs my arm.

"No, no…" She says quickly, looking helplessly at Thor, "Don't bring it on. She's sorry. No debts."

"She's _not_ sorry," I insert, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Brother, perhaps we can just let bygones be bygones," Thor adds in an authoritative voice. "No harm was done. You are even now."

"Nonsense," Loki responds quietly, meeting my eyes squarely with mischief flashing in them. I gasp, feeling a twinge of trepidation as I realize I've just provoked the dude who would probably kill us all without a blink if he could get away with it. "It would be rude of me not to return the gesture." He smirks wickedly at me, daring me not to be afraid of him.

But I'm too proud. I will not be intimidated into backing down from a war I started. So, I fold my arms and glare across the table while poor Jane and Thor exchange a worried glance, both clearly trying to figure out how to keep the peace. It's strange though, because even though I'm a little bit worried about what he's going to do to strike back at me, some of the lines have smoothed on his face. He looks less pale; less burdened. The twinkle in his eyes is almost childlike.

"Brother, you will give me your word that no harm will come to Lady Darcy," Thor's commanding voice murmurs.

"I would swear it on our brotherhood…" Loki answers, sending Thor a sideways glance, "But we are not brothers." Thor blanches slightly, but he sets his jaw.

"Believe what you will," He replies, wounded, "But you will always be my brother, regardless that we share no blood. And if you harm Darcy or Jane in any way, you will regret it."

"Spare me the threat of your wrath." The smaller of the two rolls his eyes. "What more can you do to me that has not already been done? Kill me?" He stands quickly, holding his arms out, "I beseech you, Thor, do Father a favor and be done with it. Put me out of my misery!"

"_Okay!"_ I interject quickly at Jane's look of alarm, standing and walking around the table. "Dysfunctional family time over. Come on, Sport. You can plan your next move against me while we watch a movie. Let's give Mom and Dad some alone time." I grab his arm and attempt to pull him toward the door. He doesn't budge, keeping his eyes locked on Thor, who is wearing an equally stony expression. "Hey!" I snap my fingers in front of his face, making him blink in irritation, looking down at me with scorn etched onto his features. "A prank war is not worth dying for." I tell him, sensing there's more at work than just evil plots behind those green eyes. There's something broken in there.

Of course, the guy _did_ attempt to pull a DiCaprio and become the King of the World, so I guess something would _have _to be broken in there, but this is different. I've seen that look before. I've _had_ that look before…when Jodie left me at Aunt Kate's in the middle of the night thirteen years ago. Loki is not just crazy…he's _lost._ Sighing, I grab his cuffed wrist and tug again. He comes this time, not sparing his (not) brother a second glance. I look back over my shoulder, mouthing '_Sorry'_ to Jane, who shakes her head, shrugging helplessly. Thor looks like he wants to break something, or sob into a pint of Ben & Jerry's. I can't decide which, so I'll let Jane take care of it.

Once the door across the hall is closed behind us, I move over to the call station that connects to JARVIS and press the button.

"Miss Lewis," the proper British voice comes immediately, "How may I assist you?"

"Can you have someone send us a bottle of Patrón? You can have it taken out of my pay."

"Of course," JARVIS replies amiably. "I will see to it immediately." I sigh in contentment after the screen turns off. I have to admit, working for S.H.I.E.L.D. and living in Stark Tower is definitely growing on me. God Bless Tony Stark and his flair for luxury. I turn back toward the living area, noticing the lanky form looking out the window with his back to me, silhouetted by the setting sun. His long hair reaches just below his shoulders, curling up slightly on the ends. It hits me how tall the guy is. It's kind of hard to tell sometimes, when he's standing next to Thor, even though he's only maybe an inch or so shorter. Thor kind of tends to overwhelm everyone he stands next to. I stand awkwardly, lingering near the wall with my arms crossed as I ponder what to do. Supervillains are one thing, but emotionally damaged ones are even more frightening.

Silently, I cross and stand next to him, standing in the golden glow and staring out at the scarred city. I turn and study his profile; elegant, defined features wrought with tension. All of the easy amusement from earlier is gone and replaced with a mask of contempt.

"It's rude to stare," he mutters, slanting his eyes at me without turning his head.

"I just can't read you," I muse, frowning. "One second, you seem like you could be kind of cool and then you're snapping at people and asking to be killed. One week you're trying to take over Earth and the next you're about as dangerous as a toddler. What _is _your deal, dude?"

He swallows, making the Adam's apple in his throat bob becomingly. "Darcy," he surprises me by using my name, "the only thing about me that matters is that I am a monster. There is nothing else to know."

I roll my eyes. "Dramatic much?" He turns his burning glare on me.

"How could you ever understand?"

"I understand more than you think," I shoot at him, leaning back against the counter, "I never knew my father. Hell, I never really knew my mother. When it became too inconvenient for her to raise me, she left me on a porch in the middle of the night. She said, 'I'll see you soon.'" I look down into my hands. "I didn't see her for seven years." Swallowing, I continue, "She showed up at my high school graduation party asking me for money. Told me I owed her for all the years she took care of me." I grimace at the memory.

"What did you do?" He doesn't sound like he's particularly interested, but at least he's speaking.

"I gave her five hundred bucks," I clench my jaw, ignoring the burning in my eyes, "And I told her that I didn't ever want to see her again. And I didn't. I went to college, worked my ass off and earned two degrees. Then I met Jane and Erik…and Thor." I throw my hands out helplessly, "And now, here I am watching _you_ wallow in self-pity, and it pisses me off, because you _have_ a brother who loves you and you don't even appreciate it." I point an accusing finger at him, "If it hadn't been for my Aunt and Uncle and my two cousins, I wouldn't _have_ a family. It's never mattered that I'm not their own child. Did I go on a killing spree? _No. _I lived."

"If you're expecting that I should feel sorry for my actions, I don't," He contends. "Adoption is one thing. Finding out you are actually the enemy is quite another. I was stolen from my realm as a means for Odin to bargain with Laufey for peace."

"Oh, Boo-Hoo." It comes out harsher than I'd meant. "This isn't a 'Whose Life Is Shittier' contest. You're screwed up. We all are. I get it. But you can't go out every time something goes wrong and start killing. It accomplishes nothing, and in the end, you lose anyway. Everyone does!"

A knock at the door breaks up this exchange and I gladly flee to answer, looking forward to the smooth burn of Patrón. I thank the person who delivers it, tipping them for their trouble and retreat to the kitchen without another word, opening the cupboard and pulling out two shot glasses.

"You're a strange mortal," I hear him say from behind me.

"Don't I know it," I mumble, pouring two shots and handing him one.

"You hide behind your humor, but beneath your armor, you're broken too." He downs the shot easily, not even wincing. "You're still angry with your mother. It doesn't go away."

"No," I concede tiredly, "It doesn't. But my mother will never change. She's too selfish to really love anyone but herself and she's too weak to better herself. Jodie Lewis is a plague. Destruction follows her. Ugh," I groan, grabbing his shot glass and pouring him another. "Enough of the parental issues and whining." I nod for him to follow. "Let's just pretend, for one night, that you're not an alien supervillain God and I'm not a S.H.I.E.L.D. employee and we're just two people hanging out."

"What do you suggest?" He inquires, skeptically.

"Heavy drugs," I joke, looking over my shoulder at him as I head back into the living room, bottle in hand. "I don't know. Just, no more Mommy and Daddy talk. Let's talk pranks."

"You mean, such as the ill-advised and executed attack on me earlier this evening?" His eyes turn toward his bedroom.

"Excuse me," I scoff, "that was brilliant."

"I suppose you mortals are content with mediocrity," He returns casually, smirking. "Of course, when one is trying to make a statement, one should strive for some originality. Though I am unfamiliar with that noise making contraption you rigged behind my door, it is hardly a new conception to startle someone with loud noise."

"Pshh," I narrow my eyes, "Consider yourself lucky. I was going to put noise poppers under your toilet seat!"

"Darcy, I once turned a bowl of noodles into snakes," He tells me, making me choke on tequila. "One of the Allfather's buffoons at court was a glutton and would eat so quickly and consume so much food that it would leave the others at the table both disgusted _and _hungry. So, I transformed his pasta into snakes." His lips threaten to curve into a grin. "After that, he did not choose to dine with us again."

"Did you get in trouble?" I ask, wiping my chin after dribbling alcohol.

"Of course not," Loki answers smugly, "I never got caught."

"You probably turned those big, green puppy eyes of yours on them and got off the hook," I snicker.

"Puppy eyes? Are you implying that I look like a canine?" He questions me, eyeing me strangely.

"No," I laugh, "That's not what I meant. Here on Earth, or, what did you call it?"

"Midgard."

"Midgard," I correct, "when we say 'Puppy eyes', we just mean…expressive." It's the best way to describe it. His eyes don't know what they want to be, but they're not quite green and not blue, but they're something else. It makes me jealous. Why does he get glittering pretty eyes while I'm stuck with boring old cadet blue?

"I suppose it's one of the perks of being the God of Mischief," he muses thoughtfully, "Being a master manipulator."

"Well, for the record, oh _God_ of Mischief, you kind of sucked at being a dictator." I purse my lips and give him a challenging look.

"Well, for the _record,_ Miss Mortal, politics have never really been my area of interest," He comes back dryly. "I never wanted the Asgardian throne. I simply wanted to be counted worthy of it." I feel a weird little pain in my chest at this confession. After which, I immediately remind myself that he's a time bomb. If that leather cuff wasn't on his wrist, I'd probably have been turned into a fly or something by now. Loki is not my friend. He is a dangerous criminal who killed hundreds of people in less than a week.

"And you thought killing a bunch of inferior _mortals_ would prove your worth?" I shake my head, reaching for the bottle again and pouring myself another shot of Patrón. He doesn't answer this question, only looks into his own empty shot glass with a forlorn expression of confusion on his face.

"Sometimes, in our darkest hours, we make ill-advised decisions and make allies of the wrong people," His face remains stoic, but I notice a slight change in his expression though I can't pinpoint what it is he's actually feeling (assuming he feels anything at all).

"But you're not sorry."

"No," He affirms quietly, meeting my eyes. "I'm not."

We fall silent momentarily, both waiting for the other to break the silence as the sun slips below the horizon, shrouding the room in darkness. With a sigh, I rise and turn on a lamp, feeling a little tipsy, but warm from the tequila. I sink onto the opposite end of the sofa, tucking my sore legs underneath me after kicking off my shoes.

"So," I say after a beat, "I'm thinking we should start with Jane and work our way up to Fury."

"I…" His brow furrows in confusion. "What?"

"Pranks, I mean. I think we should start with Jane. I love her, but she's too uptight."

"You mean for us…that is, you and I, to pull tricks on people? For fun?" His eyebrow rises skeptically, "Together?"

"Well…yes," I half grin. "See, I've been thinking…Jane has this thing with Post-It notes right now. What if we covered the entire lab in them?" I put a hand up, "I mean, we'd obviously have to set boundaries…for example, nothing dangerous. No snakes."

"Well, where's the fun in that?" He drawls, but the light has come back into his eyes again. It's a start. "Very well," he finally allows, "what do you suggest? Shall we replace Captain America's hair gel with glue?"

"That's not bad!" I exclaim in approval. "We could also switch the sugar with salt in the break room. I mean, it's lame, but still makes a statement."

"The key to any successful trick is to find a person's weakness and use it against them." He calmly rises and moves to the desk in the corner of the room, withdrawing a notepad and a pen.

"Isn't the point of being a superhero that you _don't_ have weaknesses?" I point out, laughing.

"Everything has a weakness, Darcy," he answers. "For example, Agent Romanoff's weakness is Agent Barton. And vice versa. It was very useful recently."

"We don't want to ruin peoples' lives," I remind him, shaking my head in amusement, "We just want to laugh at their misfortune. Schadenfreude, you know?"

"Thor has a sweet tooth," Loki suggests wickedly, "I've noticed laxatives in the form of chocolate bars. Perhaps we could replace an actual sweet with the laxative?"

"That could get ugly," I mutter, unable to hide my errant giggle. "Can you imagine Thor booking it for the bathroom after eating Ex-Lax?" I cringe.

"I can assure you, that no one would ever relish using a toilet after Thor had done with it," He agrees, finally smiling for real and making me despise the fact that I have eyes. I look away, willing myself to unthink the thoughts in my mind, reminding myself again that even if he weren't an unstable psychopath, the fact remains that Gods and mortals don't usually mix. Thor and Jane are an exception, certainly, but the mythology is not on my side.

Not that I care.

I have a date with Jake on Friday. There's nothing wrong with a simple, uncomplicated relationship. Just because something is pretty, doesn't mean that I need to have it.

Or that I want it.

* * *

Training is a little bit easier the following morning. We learn how to fend off a knife attack and my muscles are getting used to the abuse I'm giving them. It's kind of a relief to not want to die when the six hours are up and we're dismissed. Jake gets called up to work immediately after training ends, when there's a computer crash and the system needs a reboot.

On the way out of the room, one of my shoelaces comes untied and I trip, barreling into Agent 13 with all of the grace of a baby deer. I drop my bag and smash my shoulder into the door frame, sending burning into my eyes at once.

"You okay?" Thirteen asks from above me as I battle humiliation and open my eyes to see three worried heads hovering over me. She extends a hand to me, dragging me off the floor with one pull of her arm.

"Yeah, I was just practicing for my floor routine," I grumble, fixing my clothes and searching blindly for my glasses. "Olympics, here I come."

"Perhaps we should take you to the infirmary," Thor suggests, ready to scoop me up into his giant arms and carry me upstairs. I shrug him off, shaking my head.

"No, it's no big deal," I assure him, ignoring the throbbing in my shoulder.

"You should probably ice that, though," Thirteen tells me, concern etched onto her beautiful, serious face. She's the type of woman who is pretty, but she has no interest in makeup or anything that remotely reeks of femininity. I have to admire it, because she's obviously a respected agent if Fury recommended her to Captain America to train new recruits. She's not much older than I am, but she seems wiser than people twice her age, which is kind of refreshing.

"I think Thor's right," Steve sighs, carefully inspecting my shoulder, "You're gonna have a pretty nasty bruise, Darcy. Maybe if you just have it looked at—"

"Guys, it's _fine,"_ I insist, turning red at the attention. If there's one thing I'm not a fan of, it's looking like a helpless damsel…and even worse, being treated like one.

"We're just women," Thirteen mutters, giving Cap a sideways glance, "What the hell do we know, right Rogers?"

"I would never dream of belittling your gender's intelligence, Ma'am."

"Please don't call me Ma'am," She groans, giving him a look.

"Darcy," Thor's deep baritone interjects, "I must go see to Jane before we take our lunch." I nod, waving him off, grateful that there's another person besides me and Erik who cares whether or not Jane eats.

"Hey!" I call after him, making him turn toward me in surprise. "How's your darling brother feeling after drinking two thirds of a bottle of Patrón last night?"

"I daresay he was still abed when I left the apartment this morning," Thor chuckles, "Though Loki has never been much of an early riser." He leaves us, ushering a lingering group of trainees toward the elevators and making a woman jump when he yells out for them to move along.

"Boy, Agent Eleven does _not_ like to stick around when training ends, huh?" I quip, taking my bag out of Thirteen's hands. She rolls her eyes.

"God forbid Leo doesn't get his precious iced mocha before one in the afternoon."

"Oh, right," I give a small laugh, "You guys actually have names. I was starting to assume your first name was Agent, last name: Thirteen."

"Sometimes, I think that too." She gives a throaty sound of amusement. "My name is horribly old fashioned...after my Granny Sharon." She holds her hand out to me, "Sharon Carter."

Steve drops his water bottle.

"Everything okay, Cap?" I ask as we turn to look at him. He looks like he's been hit in the head with his own indestructible shield.

"I just…" He turns to Sharon, "Carter?" She sighs resignedly.

"Well, you'd find out sooner or later, I suppose." She nods, "Got recruited from the Army last year. I was a Lieutenant. I believe you were acquainted with my Aunt Peg." Stricken, Steve nods, making me want to hug him.

"I…owe her a dance."

"You're the one, aren't you?" Sharon nods knowingly. "She talks about you all the time. She actually had a stroke a couple years ago, so she's in a nursing home in Liverpool…she has bouts of dementia. I was very skeptical about the man she spoke of until you surfaced this year. Captain America." She shakes her head. "Mom and Dad just assumed she was losing it, because she never spoke of you until recently."

"Is that why you've acted so strangely toward me?" Steve asks, furrowing his brow. Sharon doesn't answer this, looking uncomfortable as he continues. "I should go to her…"

"Steve," Sharon sighs, patting his arm sympathetically, "She's almost ninety-nine years old…she wouldn't know—"

"With all due respect, Miss Carter, I made her a promise. A promise I intend to keep." His voice is full of honor and duty, a man who values his own word. It's a nice change from all of the two-timing liars out there.

"I'll…call my parents and see if we can arrange something," She relents, taking pity on him. It's the gentlest her voice has sounded since I met her. I start away, shifting my bag to the other shoulder. "Darcy!" She calls, catching up with me. "Listen, I was wondering if you and Dr. Foster might want to come out tonight for dinner and drinks with me and Agent Hill."

"Oh!" I nod my assent. "Celebrating something?" She can't contain the proud look on her face.

"I was given orders this morning that I will be heading a mission for the first time tomorrow night." She shares a look with Steve, who is still a little shell shocked to learn that the love of his life is a hundred years old and barely lucid. "Captain Rogers, I understand it was you who recommended me," she adds. He nods, swallowing.

"Well deserved, Thirteen."

I tell them a quick goodbye as I run upstairs to change. I notice a note neatly sitting inside the door when I get in. I observe the elegant handwriting on an otherwise unremarkable piece of notebook paper.

_Darcy-_

_Thor has informed me that Dr. Foster, Dr. Banner and Dr. Selvig will be attending a meeting with Mr. Stark this afternoon, which will leave the laboratory vacant for at least two hours. _

_I shall wait for your directive. _

_-Loki _


End file.
